


And The Stars Walked Backward

by QueenBuzzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Life and Death - Stephenie Meyer, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Animagus, Culture, Drama, F/F, F/M, Feel-good, Fem!Harry, Female Harry Potter, Fluff, I ramble a lot, Introspection, M/M, Modern Era, Oppression, Rule Breaking, Secrets, Self-Indulgent, Slow Build, The Author Makes the Rules, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wandless Magic, ongoing, there's a lot going on okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 189,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBuzzle/pseuds/QueenBuzzle
Summary: The story of Hattie and Bella and Beau, of their love for each other and the people around them. Of war, and hurt, and loss, and strength. Of how sometimes, loving someone isn’t enough. The story of friendship, lies, and the secrets we keep from each other.{ But after everything, how could she lie to him? She begged herself to be cold. To say, “You are not a factor.” But that wasn’t true. The truth was, he was one of the biggest factors. Part of the anchor that Forks had moored in her soul.“In my duty to my people,” she said, her voice so quiet it might have been just an exhale, “You are my greatest sin.”}{So she just plastered on a fake smile and locked that part of herself away—that part of herself that so truly made her who she was. The part of her that was intrinsically, unavoidably Hattie.The part of herself that was still her secret to keep.}{“I love you,” Jacob murmured against her hair, when all was said and done. “You leaving, that changes nothing.”}Until the last stars fade and the sun collapses—until the last wizard takes his last breathe—until all the trees in all the forests burn to ash—until a tomorrow that never comes.Until the end, I love you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @QueenBuzzle
> 
> A Few Overall Notes:  
> \- Follows the Twilight timeline as if it were 2005  
> \- Harry Potter Characters’ birthdays are moved up by 8 years (1988 instead of 1980)  
> \- Because I wrote this just-for-funsies, technology and references are as if the story were set in present day (sorry!)  
> \- Kind of a niche fic. VERY self-indulgent.  
> \- Cliched, gender-bent, Bending The Rules, Artistic Liberties... etc. :)  
> 

_That was the thing about secrets—you had to carry them with you forever, no matter what the cost._ — _[Kass Morgan](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6922454.Kass_Morgan)_

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                In a shocking turn of events, it was raining in Port Angeles. From where she was peering miserably out of the window, she could smell it—rain and grass and petrichor.

                (No matter her misery, she couldn’t say it was an _entirely_ unpleasant smell.)

                She was sat atop one of her few suitcases, watching the downpour with the thought that _eventually I and my belongings are going to be adventuring out into that._ She drowned her misery in a swallow of too-sweet lemonade, reminding herself that _she_ chose this. Nobody was forcing her to be here.

                Nothing but her own fantasies and morals were forcing her to be here.

                 The roar of a plane engine above snapped her out of her pity party and she watched a jet come in for landing. She could barely make out the flashing lights of the men guiding it into position.

                Airports were unpleasant. They smelled weird, there were too many people, and no matter how many times she reminded herself she hadn’t done anything wrong, the presence of police and border control made her nervous. It wasn’t that she was threatening—she had to choke back a laugh at that thought. She was all of five-foot-one and skinny, slight of form, with wide eyes and a baby face. No stranger looked at her and thought, “Ah, yes, this one’s going to be trouble.”

                (Rather, most people asked her where her parents were and if she was an unaccompanied minor. Possibly even more annoying.)

                There was a momentary gap in the downpour, the lack of rain making the airport sound suddenly too quiet. Rivulets of leftover water ran down the windows until all that was left were droplets, racing each other down. Her lips quirked up in a bit of a grin.

                As if in answer to her unspoken prayers, a slightly out of date police cruiser pulled into the arrivals lane. “FORKS POLICE” was printed down the side in a font that probably hadn’t been updated since the seventies.

                Ah, her knight in shining armor—she hopped off her perch, stretching her aching legs. She had sat in that position for so long that there were red marks on her bare thighs in the texture of her suitcase.

                Forks Chief of Police, Charlie Swan, exited his cruiser and looked about for a second before entering the building. By this time, the slight girl had already pulled her knapsack over her shoulder, zipped up her waterproof parka over her lacy dress, and pulled the handles of her suitcase up.

                You could say she was a _little_ ready to get home.

                Ah, but make no mistake—she knew there were pleasantries to be had first.

                Just as she would have recognized him, police garb or no, she could tell that he immediately knew her face. He hadn’t seen her since she was barely two, but they were drawn together.

                A brisk grin stole over Charlie’s face, twitching his brown mustache.

                “Hattie!” he bellowed, swallowing her up in a hug. She tensed at first and then melted, not used to the feeling.

                “Uncle Charlie, hi,” she said, a little breathlessly.

                Charlie gripped her shoulders, pushing her backwards and looking her up and down. She wasn’t much to look at. Aunt Petunia called her a late bloomer—though she was nearing seventeen now, she barely had any curves. Her chest was under-developed, swallowed by the parka. But when Charlie’s eyes lit back upon her face, he smiled at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His eyes misted over a little bit and he seemed to barely resist pulling her back in.

                “You look just like your mom,” he said. Charlie’s voice was thick with emotion.

                Hattie felt a little guilty—she knew that being here hurt Charlie a little bit. After all, it meant her parents were truly gone. But she also thought perhaps her presence was an opportunity for Charlie to allow himself to actually grieve.

                “My mum was a redhead,” Hattie protested, giving a short laugh. It was a hollow protest, even if it were true. She looked like a Potter: delicate—if not aristocratic—nose, wide eyes, strong jaw line, wild black hair. Only her abnormally green eyes and large, puffy lips were her mother’s.

                “Yeah, she was,” Charlie agreed. He put his thumb on her chin, and then smiled. “But you remind me so much of her.”

                He took his hat off and swiped at his face, swallowing thickly and nodding once. Hattie toed at the ground, her flats scuffing a little on the floor. She would allow him all the time he needed to accustom to her presence and grieve.

                “Alright,” he said, reaching out for her bags. “Gimme those, let’s get you into the car. You look beautiful by the way. Tuney’s work, I’ll bet. She always was a bit theatrical.”

                Hattie gave a short laugh, not used to people insulting her prim-and-proper Aunt. Though they weren’t close (far from it, really) and Petunia didn’t really like Hattie, she’d always insisted Hattie present herself properly. Thus, when the young girl had gotten around for her long days of travel, Petunia had laid out outfits for her.

                Mostly impractical. Like the flats. Pretty to look at, not very nice for walking around in the rain with.

                “I would like to see her face if she could hear you right now,” Hattie said, instead of answering.

                Charlie took the two large suitcases, leaving Hattie with her knapsack and the smaller suitcase. She followed him to the cruiser, watched him shuffle some things around, and finally they packed her things away. Then Charlie opened her door and helped her in like a gentleman, making her blush lightly.

                “See you got the family genes just like all the rest ‘a us,” Charlie chuckled, twisting the keys in the ignition and pulling out carefully. “Nice to see some family resemblance.”

-x-

                Mostly they chatted quietly on the way home. By the time they left Port Angeles and got on the highway, it was already dark, and Hattie had been travelling for nearly 48 hours. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the stars though—living near the city as she did, she didn’t get to see them like this much. The clouds had rolled off and though the pavement was wet, the sky was clear, and the stars were brighter than she’d ever imagined. She could see the constellations Professor had taught her about; Cassiopeia, Draco, Cepheus, Gemini, Orion and more she couldn’t name. Astronomy had never been her strongest suit.

                Charlie was interested in hearing her entire backstory. What led her here—even though they’d spoken of it over the phone multiple times during the process. It was so bizarre, going from thousands of miles away to sitting next to her estranged uncle, chatting about her childhood.

                She didn’t say much about Vernon or Dudley. They weren’t pleasant people. She had the few odd scars to prove it, and she didn’t want to spoil the picture Charlie had of them in his brain. Likewise, she had few nice words about Petunia—her aunt was a nasty, gossiping woman. Hattie whole-heartedly believed that had she been a boy, Petunia would have treated her just as awfully as Vernon did.

                But she wasn’t a boy.

                Instead, she was taught her womanly duties. She did household chores. Scrubbed floors on her hands and knees for five hours straight. Gardened, cooked. Sat to be groomed, plucked, shaved, waxed to perfection. Shoved into pretty dresses and taken to tea where she was not allowed to speak unless spoken to. Then, because of all the housework and yardwork she was forced into doing, she was calloused and needed to have her hands softened.

                Still, her being a somewhat pretty young woman saved her from Vernon’s hands. Her uncle would get a tongue lashing if he left too many marks on her body. A smack here, a shove there—fine—but he took the belt to her once and she never seen him so sorry when Petunia got done with him.

                It was all because of _magic,_ of course. Another thing she didn’t mention in her retelling of her childhood. Her aunt hated magic, but when Severus Snape (Professor, she called him) arrived at her doorstep when Hattie was five, Petunia had little choice in the matter. Magic made Hattie unruly, and Petunia hated unruliness more than she hated magic.

                Professor educated her in magic for eleven years. Sometimes there would be others—a supplementary tutor, when her Professor didn’t have the necessary knowledge. But primarily he was her Professor, and he did well by her.

                Even if he was a snarky git.

                She obtained her NEWTs this past year (which in itself contained numerous complications), but she couldn’t start a Mastery until she was seventeen, and until there was someone willing to risk their life to teach her. So, Hattie needed to continue on her path, figure out what was next.

                Forks, Washington was what was next.

                Not only did Charlie live there (a fact that Professor had briskly informed her of), but it was nearby the Quileute Reservation. La Push. Home of Quileute tribe, which legend had it, descended from wolves.

                It was all pure coincidence. In fact, Hattie hadn’t even known she’d had an Uncle Charlie until Professor told her so. And for him to live so close to the Quileute tribe—well, it was like fate.

                Her mastery would be in defensive magics and healing, but her _true_ interest had always been human-animal transfiguration: animagi. And she figured that the Quileute legends might have some information for her, since there were few known teachers of the profession. Becoming an animagus was an unnecessary frivolity that many wouldn’t be awarded, but Hattie just knew the magic would come easy to her—and she had to stay out of the way, anyways, so she might as well be doing something useful.

                This was of course her story for Charlie, too. First, she wanted to meet him—desperately, she wanted to. Like she’d never wanted anything in her life. Hattie craved a family, fantasized about a loving home. Professor had been good to her, but he had never been _warm._ He cared for her well-being, but Hattie held no illusions that he loved her. It was what she wanted more than anything.

                Secondly, she told him that she was very interested in myths and legends, which were rife in this area of Washington. Charlie hadn’t thought that was a very good reason to uproot herself (“There’s that internet now, after all!”) but when she explained it was an education thing, for a thesis-like project, he’d given in.

                A very distant last reason was the want to get away from Petunia and Vernon Dursley. She could’ve survived there for the next year and a half until she turned eighteen, but she just didn’t _want_ to anymore…not if there was another option. So she’d reached out to Charlie, opened the communication. In a month she was applying for a visa. A little more time passed and she was saying goodbye to Professor, packing up her belongings, and leaving behind Little Whinging.

                Hattie smiled to herself as she watched the stars go by. She told Charlie all about her Professor, who taught her everything she knew. She told him of warm summer days in the library, spending more time with teachers than with kids her own age, just how she’d liked it.

                But she said the bare minimum about the Dursleys—and if Charlie noticed, he didn’t say anything.

—x—

                “Hattie, wake up hun, we’re home.”

                She unstuck her cheek from the window, heavy with the kind of grogginess you get when you’ve just come out of a great, much needed nap. Hattie stretched her body, working out the kinks, and took in the great expanse before her.

                Her new home was a two-story house and a garage with a loft, looking cozy and quaint. The driveway was a bit busted up she could see, and there was a winding gravel path up to the front porch, though the driveway itself narrowed to a point between the garage and the house. Overgrown grass and plants lived in the flowerbeds. The house was a little shabby—a little too much dirt on the exterior, a few too many loose shingles. The picket fence around the flower beds was more gray than white. The mail box was crooked and the flag hung loose.

                Her Aunt would have hated it.

                Hattie grinned widely. It was _perfect._

                “I love this place,” she exhaled, taking a great breath of fresh air as she stepped out of the car. There was the smell of wet grass and pavement, and trees—so many trees. The house bordered on a forest. “I love it.”

                Charlie was the one blushing now, scratching his neck. “Ah, you know. ‘S not much, but it’s home.”

                They headed inside, Charlie showing her around the small house as they went. The worn furniture looked so inviting that Hattie debated just curling up on the couch and sleeping there, but Charlie was already ushering her up the stairs.

                There were three rooms at the top of the stairs: Charlie’s, a bathroom, and the one Hattie would be staying in for now. Her uncle brought her things into the room and patted her shoulder, leaving her alone for the night.

                Hattie was dead tired, but she rifled through her suitcase looking for night things. In the morning she would do a little unpacking and a little looking around—this room belonged to Charlie’s kids and it wasn’t entirely empty. She could see a picture of them on the wall and was curious to snoop a little…but that would wait until she’d had some rest.

                The twins’ bunkbeds had been removed and replaced with a regular full-sized mattress, turned down with a blue bed set. She snuggled into it, listening to the wind and the rain as she fell asleep.

                Hattie slept better than she had in months.

—x—

                “G’mornin’ Hattie,” Charlie called, already headed toward the coffee pot in the kitchen. Hattie was curled in one of the mismatched dining chairs, one hand resting idly on her mug and the other holding open her novel. “Been up long?”

                Hattie glanced up and smiled. “Not too long. I was pretty tired. I made some breakfast—it is in the skillet, probably still warm.”

                He gave her an appraising look and lifted the lid of the skillet. Hattie continued smiling as she went back to her novel, sipping her coffee. The smell of eggs scrambled with peppers and cheese (the only foods that had occupied the fridge) wafted over to her as he helped himself. Charlie sat across from her, digging into his food like a starved wolf.

                “I almost never get home cooking,” Charlie groused, once it was gone. “What’re you reading?”

                Hattie hemmed, marking her page and closing the novel. “Just a novel,” she told him, sitting up straighter and uncurling her legs. “What are the plans for the day?”

                He took a drag from his mug, which, like hers, was pretty milky. When he clinked it back onto the table, staring off into the distance, he finally answered. “I have to go into work for a bit, but if you need anything I can leave money for a cab.”

                Hattie drummed her fingers on the table. It must be weird for Charlie to suddenly share his home with someone, and a teenage someone at that. It had been so long since anyone had lived with him with any sort of permanency. Of course he wouldn’t be used to hanging around the house.

Instead of sharing her thoughts, she gave him a bashful grin.  “No need, I think I will just spend the day settling in. I want to do some unpacking and maybe I will take a walk if the weather holds out.”

                Charlie seemed put-off by the thought of her heading into town by herself. “We need to get you set up with a phone before long, that way if you get into trouble you can call someone. Probably a couple other things we should do—get your license, get your transcripts for school, all ‘a that. I guess that can wait for you to get settled though.”

                He heaved himself up from the table and put his dish in the sink. Before heading off to work he wrote her out a list of phone numbers (“This one’s my cell phone, here’s my work phone, this is the house number. If you can’t get a hold of me here’s Billy Black’s number, I should take you out to meet him ‘n his son, you’d like ‘em. Oh, and here’s the number for Harry Clearwater…”) and told her to be careful if she went out. It was a sentiment she was used to—people looked at Hattie and saw a girl much younger than she actually was, much more delicate, and tended to worry.

                Nevertheless, she agreed she’d be careful. Charlie smiled at her and ruffled her hair as he left, still buckling his gun holster onto his belt.

                After he left, Hattie washed up the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen a little. When she had finished, she went back up to the room she was borrowing.

                Her suitcases were pushed into a corner, out of the way. As she opened the curtains and took in the room, she smiled fondly. It didn’t really look lived in—there was, of course, the unmade bed, but that was her personal touch. The desk in the corner had an ancient computer on it, the phone line running to it was stapled to the wall. The desk and its drawers were empty, but the dresser had a couple of picture frames on it and some knickknacks in the drawers.

                There was a picture of three small children: two boys and a girl. The boys were opposites, one pale with brown hair and blue eyes, skinny save for that chubby baby look a lot of kids have. This must be Beaufort, Hattie’s cousin.

                The other boy was brown—his russet skin was more than just sun-kissed, and she assumed he must be one of the natives from the nearby tribe. His black hair was overlong and his eyes were darker than Beaufort’s, but they sparked with a mischief that made them seem lighter. His body had the wiry toned look of kids used to spending all their time outside.

                The girl—Hattie’s other cousin, Isabella—looked like a female version of her brother. She was perhaps a little taller, but if she cut her hair and the duo donned the same clothes, they’d be close to identical except for the eyes. Her eyes were brown, the same shade as her hair. Isabella looked unhappy, and Hattie had a feeling it had nothing to do with Beaufort’s hand mussing her hair.

                Turning away from the picture frame, Hattie decided she’d snooped enough. It was time to unpack a little bit.

                She laid out her clothes on the bed, making a list of what clothing items she’d need in the coming months. It had been a pretty mild day yesterday, for early December, but Hattie had a feeling the weather wouldn’t last. Even yesterday her thin parka hadn’t been enough to keep her warm—she’d need proper winter attire soon.

                Most of her clothing was the pretty tea dresses her aunt preferred her in. She had oodles of the things, with shoes to match. There were also night things, smart skirts and blouses, underthings. She had one swimming suit (modest, showing just enough skin to be a tad risqué—her aunt wanted Hattie to be envied by all the other neighbors’ daughters. After all, that was the entire point of being a dress-up doll), a couple pairs of trousers mostly worn when she was tending the garden, a sun hat. Hidden beneath it all was one pair of workout clothes, one pair of jeans, one t-shirt, one hoodie—all kept very secret from her aunt.

                After her clothes were out of the way and she had dressed herself for the day, Hattie took the majority of her personal items downstairs with her.

                In early January, Charlie’s kids would be coming to live with them. Their mother had gotten remarried recently and they wanted to give the new couple space.

                Unfortunately, because Charlie’s house was so tiny, that put a little bit of a damper on the living arrangements. Three teenagers simply could not fit in that tiny childhood bedroom.

                _Luckily,_ Charlie’s garage had a loft over it—and he and his buddies had spent the summer renovating it into a sort of apartment. Hattie hadn’t seen it yet, but the plan had been for her and Isabella to share the loft, which would have two bedrooms and a bathroom.

                It was three quick steps from the back door to the side door of the garage, and the overhang from the two buildings’ roofs meant Hattie hardly got wet at all. She unlocked the garage and dragged her suitcase up the stairs to the loft, noting the obvious signs of recent cleaning.

                Upstairs she saw that there was a small entry way to hang coats and umbrellas, where she took her shoes off before venturing to one of the rooms. It wasn’t anything super impressive: small, just enough room for the bed, dresser, a bookshelf and a desk. There was a small closet and a large window, and Hattie felt at peace in the room.

                The other room was the same, though the layout was a little different due to the shape of the loft. Hattie claimed one and stacked her few books and personal items into it, made the bed with the provided bed set, and left to go back to the house.

—x—

                It was evening by the time Charlie came home and Hattie was curled up in the very couch she’d eyed the night before. (It was just as comfortable as she’d imagined it.) Her novel was mostly finished now, and she’d showered and was in her pajamas.

                Charlie called out to her as he came in the door, stomping his soggy boots on the mat. “Hattie?”

                “In here, Uncle Charlie,” she responded, marking her page. “I was going to cook dinner but there was nothing in the fridge.”

                He came in, having already unbuttoned his work shirt. He was looking around the house with appraising eyes. “You didn’t have to clean up,” he said gruffly. “Looks good though.”

                She’d spent the day doing some fine detail cleaning just to busy herself. The house wasn’t really _dirty,_ just obviously hadn’t been deep cleaned in a while: the grout was stained, the glass on the oven had needed to be degreased, the windows were kind of smudgy, the shelves had needed to be dusted. It wasn’t a super noticeable cleaning job and Hattie was flattered he noticed.

                They ate pizza that night, something Hattie learned in the coming weeks that Charlie was very accustomed to doing if she didn’t prepare a meal. He promised they’d go to the grocery store soon and told her that he didn’t really cook. (She’d already figured that out, of course.)

                They chatted some, but mostly they just enjoyed each other’s presence quietly. Neither of them were inane chatterers, something Hattie was internally grateful for. It was good to be quiet together. Sometimes silence was more comforting than forced conversation. After dinner, Hattie found herself tucked back up in her (borrowed) bed, smiling at the ceiling.

                She thought perhaps she could come to love Forks.


	2. Chapter 2

_His eyes gleamed in a way that suggested staying out of trouble meant staying far, far away from him._ — _[Sarah J. Maas](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3433047.Sarah_J_Maas)_

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                Hattie didn’t get to do much exploring her first few days in Forks—she was either busy with Charlie or it was raining.

                It was a shame, because the too-green forest butted up to their property perfectly. Hattie could spy a narrow walking path from Beaufort’s window and it called to her, taunted her to decipher its secrets.

                But there were things for her to do first.

                Laden down with papers upon papers stacked in manila envelopes, Hattie spent her second day in Forks at high school. The rundown little office was dreary and looked out over a concrete parking lot full of older cars, bright against the gray skies. Her counselor hardly noticed Hattie’s lack of attention.

                Charlie and Ms. Cope were eking out the details of Hattie’s next half of a year. It wasn’t often that someone transferred schools cross-country, let alone trans-Atlantic, and as such the school had no formal system for transferring credits. Everything had to be done by hand. The grading scale was completely different between England and the United States, so they were trying not to set her up for failure due to precarious grade points.

                Hattie had already taken two placement tests for core subjects (one math, one science) and was waiting for the grades to come back, but she’d talked Ms. Cope out of an English placement. Charlie and Ms. Cope were discussing US History (which Hattie knew little about) when Hattie lost herself staring out into the parking lot.

                Class must have just let out. Students swarmed from one classroom to the next in rubber rain coats and umbrellas. She watched them laugh and push each other around, watched as one unlucky teen’s notebook fell into a puddle. One girl carried a camera as big as she was, another boy was lugging an instrument case to-and-fro.

                In particular one group caught Hattie’s eye—they were congregated together, not talking, walking slowly between the buildings. It was like in a movie, in the opening scene when you can clearly pinpoint the main character because they are better lit or more in focus or just more vibrant than all the faceless characters around them. These teens were _beautiful,_ and well dressed, but pale like corpses. Her eyes were flickering between them, three girls and three boys, impossibly beautiful, when one of them glanced up.

                He seemed to be staring directly at her through the half-open blinds, but that was impossible. Hattie couldn’t see his eyes from here, but his hair glinted a coppery brunette—she’d never seen anything like it, except for on the small girl next to him. Her breath was nearly knocked out of her system as said girl glanced up as well.

                Luckily, Hattie was spared from the beautiful girl’s gaze as Ms. Cope snapped her to attention.

                “Heather? What do you think about this?”

                Hattie’s head jerked up and she sat straighter, blinking. Great, she’d been caught lost in her own little world. “I am sorry, Ms. Cope—I got distracted.”

                The heavy-set woman nodded understandingly. “I know, we’ve been here a long time. We were discussing placing you in the correct history class for your grade level. You have enough history credits from your previous school that it would be a shame to set you back, and if you find yourself struggling we can provide tutors.”

                Relief settled in Hattie’s veins. “Yes, that sounds amazing.” History had been her least favorite subject—both in muggle school _and_ magical. Not having to repeat extra history courses was news that could easily make her day.

                “Perfect,” Ms. Cope said approvingly. “We’re just waiting on the math and science scores, and then our core subjects are covered. Now then, onto electives. Physical education is required for every class, but you still have an empty slot to fill. Colleges recommend two years of a foreign language, but it seems you have a satisfactory Latin credit—impressive. We don’t offer that here, but would you like to take Spanish?”

                Hattie shook her head, brushing her hair out of her face. “It would probably be more useful than a dead language, but I think I will skip that.”

                She glanced out the window hesitantly as Ms. Cope spoke more about the other electives—which, depending upon the hour block she had available, may or may not be accepting students.

                A secretary came in at some point with Hattie’s scores, which were as she had expected (high for science, average for math). She was placed in Biology and Algebra II, which made her scowl a little, but she could get on with it.

                Thus, her choice of electives was narrowed: art, choir, or home economics. Everything else was full.

                Hattie scowled harder, trying to figure out which she’d enjoy more. Art could be fun, but she wasn’t that great at it—singing was out of the question, she had the tone of a cat who’d been tossed in water. And she’d ace home economics, it was something she’d been practicing since a child.

                “Hattie’s really good at homemaking,” Charlie commented, the first he’d spoken in a while. He seemed keen to let Hattie make her own decisions, and he rolled with it in the background. “Cooking, cleaning, gardening—she’s a pro.”

                Ms. Cope hemmed a little. “Well the objective for electives is learning and becoming better at a skill—Heather, if you don’t feel home economics has anything left to offer you, perhaps you should choose one of the others.”

                Hattie’s resolve wavered. She was going to pick home economics for the easy, assured A, but now she felt that Ms. Cope was on to her. Art it was, then.

                She crossed her fingers she’d made the right choice.

—x—

                The next errand was driving lessons, which Charlie insisted on. It was a few days later, but Hattie hadn’t been able to get out of the house due to chronic rain and lack of transportation. With Charlie working so much, Hattie would need to figure out how to get back and forth to school most days.

                Normally she would just walk, but given it rained the majority of the time in Forks, Charlie didn’t feel that was an appropriate course of action. She also suspected he was feeling protective of her due to her appearance.  

                He found Hattie an instructor in town willing to do extended lessons, who happened to owe Charlie a favor. (Apparently, being the Chief of Police has some perks.) The man, Mr. Newton, offered Hattie driving lessons at 75% off.

                Now, Hattie wasn’t broke by any means—her parents, Lily and James Potter, had been pretty well off before their death. They’d left her a large account she could access anytime she wanted to and an even larger family account she’d inherit at twenty-one, plus whatever was left in their Gringotts accounts. As a kid, Professor had tutored her on accounting and monetary assets and even business etiquette, even though her family’s business revenue was at a stand-still due to the war.

                She guessed Professor had big dreams to see the end of the war before Hattie reached adulthood.

                But Charlie, even knowing that Hattie had money, refused to hear of her paying for it. “It’s a necessity,” he said, gruff and a bit embarrassed. “I’m your guardian, and I wouldn’t make my own kids pay for their necessities, so I’m not gonna make you.”

                Hattie couldn’t argue with that, and didn’t really want to—it made her too warm inside. So, she put away her wallet and let Charlie pay for the classes.

                Her instructor, Mr. Newton, was nice enough. Blond hair, blue eyes, chipper—he owned a sporting goods store outside of town. While she drove, at first through parking lots, then back roads, and eventually on the highway, they chatted about the hiking trails in the area. Mr. Newton knew all the best ones, he claimed, and even advised her to stop by his store before going on her first trip.

                “My son, Mike—he’s about your age—he’d be willing to take you out if you wanted. You can borrow some gear from the store, too, if you need.”

                Hattie drove his minivan during these lessons, and they drove for hours. On and off the highway, in circles, practicing left turns and parallel parking. Driving was terrifying for her. Though she’d never done it back in England, driving in what would be the oncoming lane was horrifying.

                But, slowly, she got better. Even the icy weather couldn’t slow her down.

                “And, really, you know—learning to drive in the snow is the best. That’s how I taught my kids. You learn to drive in bad weather, you can drive in any weather,” Mr. Newton was jabbering. Hattie thought that he’d become rather fond of her over the days they spent trapped together.

                In the meantime, as Hattie got more confidence driving, she and Charlie began looking at cars. This was an exciting prospect that Hattie hadn’t even considered. She test-drove fancy cars, raggedy cars, rusty cars, shiny cars—she test drove one whose seatbelts were mangled, one with no airbags. Charlie tried to convince her to just buy his buddy Billy’s old truck, but it had been new in the 50s or 60s and she was, admittedly, being picky.

—x—

                That first weekend, Charlie invited her fishing. He had been packing his gear when he suddenly stopped and looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time.

                “You wouldn’t wanna come with us, would you?” he asked, a bit awkwardly. “You haven’t met the boys yet. Won’t be too interesting, but Billy’s gotta son your age, so at least you’d have company.”

                Hattie stopped where she’d been packing his lunch (a chore she delegated to herself when she found out he ate exclusively at diners or fast food joints), looking at him curiously.

                Charlie fished with “the boys” (aka Harry Clearwater and Billy Black) every weekend, from what she gathered. Hattie had never been fishing, and though she was pretty sure she wouldn’t enjoy the experience, she was interested anyways. Even if she wasn’t, Charlie was reaching out to her, a fact that warmed her a little from the inside out.

                The warmth didn’t last long once she found herself on the ocean in the middle of winter.

                Hattie shivered as she watched the men load Billy up onto the boat. Even wheelchair-bound, he was a tall, imposing man, with more hair than most women. He wore it pulled back at the nape of his neck, the tail sticking out under his winter cap. He radiated with a wild sort of energy that made Hattie simultaneously nervous and excitably restless.

                When they met, Billy looked her up and down and asked Charlie if he fed her.

                He didn’t smile at her (he didn’t really seem the type), and there was a glint in his eyes that somehow hinted he knew all her secrets. It made her heartbeat quicken. Though the situations were completely different, she remembered the bronze-haired boy from the school, looking up and meeting her gaze from across the parking lot.

                Curious.

                Harry, on the other hand, was a riot—and he didn’t have such an off-putting aura about him. His was calmer, almost mellow, but she could that there was a wild streak within him. He was a little older than Charlie and Billy and the spark in his eyes ousted him as a bit of a prankster. He didn’t pay Hattie much attention except to nudge Billy’s son, Jacob, and tell him “She’s quite the looker, son.”

                Charlie had chased him around with Billy (in his wheelchair) at that proclamation, nearly knocking him off the dock.

                And then there was Jacob.

                Jacob turned out to be a handsome, well-built teenager, all sweet smiles and chin dimples. His hair was longer like Billy’s, but blowing free in the wind. His muscles were well-defined for a kid his age, and she blushed when he grinned a toothy, very white grin at her. He was nearing seventeen, like Hattie, but he was tall, surpassing already Charlie’s five foot eleven inches. This made her look like a dwarf compared to him, of course.

                He had an impish, mischievous nature about him—and he, too, exuded a wild, restless sort of energy. He messed about with the men and really didn’t seem that interested in fishing, which made Hattie wonder why he came.

                After Charlie and Harry had gotten Billy settled aboard, they loaded the fishing gear up. Jacob boarded the boat, looking as if he’d done it a million times before (knowing Billy and Charlie, he probably had), then offered Hattie a hand up.

                The duo sat together in the back of the boat, watching the older men horse around like children. Jacob seemed extra diligent about watching his dad, something Hattie could admire. He gave indulgent grins when his dad barked out huge, whooping laughs as they sped out to sea.

                They didn’t go too far—the waves were rough, canting their boat back and forth—but when they cut the engine off, the shore was miles behind them. The men wasted little time casting their lines out, their voices dropping low and all shenanigans quieting as quickly as they’d started.

                Hattie settled in with the intention of reading the book she’d brought with her, trying to tune out the rocking of the boat. It didn’t quite make her _nauseous,_ she’d had worse, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant either. However, before she could open her novel, Charlie pulled her up.

                “Thought you were fishing?” he chuckled. Hattie internally groaned, and Jacob, who had been lounging backward like the rocking boat was his personal soother, perked up.

                “I don’t know, I have never fished before,” she dallied, not quite looking at Charlie.

                “That’s called ‘learning’, honey,” Harry called from near the bow.

                Thus, as Charlie set his pole up in a special hook, Hattie no longer had an out. He fished out a second pole for her, this one obviously meant for someone smaller than she was, and began showing her the ropes.

                ( _All puns intended_ , she thought dryly.)

                She didn’t really get the hang of it—especially not with gloves on, the wind burning her face. Casting was easy enough, but reeling not so much. Her gloves were too slippery. The one bite she got, she couldn’t reel in, and Charlie was so excited he nearly went overboard trying to help her.

                They ended up getting it, a huge fish in her opinion, but Hattie was too squeamish to unhook it and made Charlie do it. Jacob was laughing quietly at her, but the men were all pretty impressed and even clicked a picture of her with it. (Charlie was also in the picture, because Hattie refused to hold the fish.)

                After that, she left the fishing to the boys and curled up to try and stay out of the cold air. If only she could cast a warming charm…

                “Good first catch,” a voice near her ear murmured. Hattie jumped at the electric feeling that coursed through her body when Jacob’s breath ghosted over her cheek. “But I take it fishing’s not for you?”

                She snorted. “Yeah, I don’t even know if I will be able to cook that fish.”

                Jacob was still lounging, seeming to enjoy the ride more than the activity. When she spoke, though, his face was canted towards hers, lips quirked. His eyes seemed to dart over her face and lips, like he hadn’t seen anything quite like her before.

                It set something afire in her belly, and she looked away from him, cheeks pink—and she was totally blaming it on the wind.

                “What?” she asked him, maybe a bit sharper than intended.

                “I like your accent,” he told her. She turned her head back toward him again.

                “I like yours,” Hattie retaliated. He didn’t have the heavy, slow accent that Billy or Harry did, but she could detect hints of it in his voice still—the way he rounded his words was different from other Americans. She knew it was the tribe’s influence.

                Jacob’s grin lit up his face again, and Hattie was again struck by just how _white_ his teeth were. It made her feel self-conscious.

                “I don’t have an accent,” he protested. “But you’re like Mary Poppins.”

                Hattie gave him a dry look. “I’m sorry I’m a little bit posh, perhaps a few too many tea parties as a child.”

                Jacob’s uproarious laughter caused Harry to chuck something at him, whilst the other men shushed him for “scaring the fish”.

                By the afternoon, even the men had grown louder. The fish just weren’t biting, it seemed. They chatted about their kids. Harry’s daughter had gone through a nasty breakup and was still moping about. Billy insisted that it was better than his daughters (one of whom had run off to university eight hours away, the other of which was married and living in Hawaii—they were barely two years older than Hattie).

                “I don’t think Bella’s ever had a boyfriend,” Charlie quipped. “Thank god for small mercies, eh boys?”

                “Got two girls to worry ‘bout now, Charlie,” Harry roared, looking at Hattie and Jacob curled up in the stern. Nobody else seemed to notice them, though, and Charlie groused about how Hattie was a good girl and he didn’t have to worry about anything like that from her.

                Then, just like that, the conversation came around to her. Harry insisted she meet his kids—which Hattie wasn’t necessarily opposed to. She was just a little shy, and not naturally gifted at conversing with others her own age. She was much better smoothing down Charlie’s lapels and making sure his trousers were ironed than she was making small talk with teenagers.

                Conditioning, she wondered, or nature?

                Nevertheless, Jacob had proven to be a happy surprise—they spent nearly the entire fishing trip in the stern, sharing Hattie’s novel, while the men swore about their bad luck. When the wind nipped their cheeks one too many times, they hunkered down on the ground, using the sides of the boat as cover.

                Privately, Hattie thought the fishing trip was more an excuse to get out of the house and crack open a cold one than it was to catch fish. The weather was too poor to have expected much, after all.

                As the engine hummed to life, cutting the water, Hattie smiled. It wasn’t necessarily an experience she’d want to relive, but she was glad she’d done it—even if she wasn’t looking forward to cooking the fish she’d caught.

                After they got back to the shore and docked, Jacob and Hattie watched as the men heaved Billy out of the boat. He was tall, and clearly heavy—with one arm wrapped around either man’s neck, he looked regal, like a king on his throne. Harry grunted and joked that maybe he needed to lay off the fried fish.

                As they walked back to Billy’s house once Harry had taken off, Charlie wrapped his arm around Hattie and smiled down at her.

                “Thanks for coming out with me today, kiddo,” he murmured. Jacob and Billy were arguing loudly in front of them about the best way to prepare their catch. “Bella ‘n Beau used to kick up the biggest fuss when I made ‘em come.”

                Hattie burrowed into Charlie’s side, feeling warm even with the biting wind.

—x—

                Ah, scratch that. Billy ushered her inside once they arrived at the small red house, calling out, “Jacob! Get her warmed up, son!” as he wheeled himself up the ramp. Charlie followed him up, watching her amusedly as she shivered.

                Jacob helped her inside, one hand hovering behind the small of her back. “Chilly?” he asked cheerfully, already stripping himself of his layers. The inside of the house was toasty already, but he cranked up the heat. She followed him around like a puppy as he prepared a fire, pulling her gloves and coat off as she went.

                Soon she found herself under a blanket, snuggled into the couch. Jacob plopped down next to her, offering her the TV remote, but she didn’t want to remove her hands from under the blankets. He flipped through the channels idly as they listened to Billy coach Charlie on how to prepare the fish for dinner.

                The TV was one of those old tube-style ones and the reception wasn’t the best, but eventually Jacob found a movie for them to watch. One minute they were laughing at something one of the cheesy actors said, the next she was being jostled from her position on the couch, still mostly asleep.

                “Want me to take her to the car, Charlie?” a voice was murmuring.

                “She looks awful peaceful doesn’t she,” Charlie’s familiar voice hemmed. “I dunno Jake, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

                Her blankets were moved aside and there were hands on her, but she couldn’t be bothered to rouse herself further. Someone lifted her, cradling her like a baby, and then she was being carried.

                “It’s no problem, Charlie. Really! She’s light as a feather.”

—x—

                She dreamed that night of a bronze-haired pair, a boy and a girl. They were in the forest behind her house, light filtering down upon them, and she was standing further away, watching. At once, both of their heads snapped up, eerily in sync. They were looking behind her, and she turned, but there was nothing. When she turned back, the bronze twins were gone, replaced by Jacob.

                Hattie reached out for him, but the further she reached the further he was, and then the image rippled as if she’d just broken the surface of a still pond. The image change to her reflection, but she looked lifeless, harried. Her under-eyes were dark, like bruises, and her cheeks sallow—she looked like a corpse. Angry at the reminder of how she used to live, she lashed out at the image and it changed again.

                There she was—no…there _he_ was. Not much taller than she was now, with short, wild black hair and green eyes. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and he held himself up confidently—how she walked now, knowing she was strong, knowing all that she had overcome. But his shoulders were tense, and his eyes pained, like everything from his past had scarred him.

                It was her, but it wasn’t.

                He was wearing wizard’s robes, which had fallen out of style a decade ago, and a gold and red tie with a House Gryffindor sigil on it—but Hogwarts had been overrun in the 80s by a Dark Wizard. Ever since then any school that got too big was attacked, too.

                Hattie angrily splashed the image away, but it didn’t disappear this time. The boy’s features rippled and changed into hers, hair growing slowly, glasses fading away. The forest’s unnerving silence gave way to a soft whispering and it was only when her reflection smirked that Hattie realized the trees were saying her name.

                “Heather Henrietta,” they whispered. “Heather Henrietta.”

—x—

                She woke in her bed, early morning light shining through her window’s open curtains. Her heart was pounding. Her dream left her feeling panicky and anxious, and she couldn’t get the image of her sallow, corpse-like face out of her mind. It’s how she’d always felt living with the Dursleys—like a dead girl walking. Like one day she wouldn’t perform her functions well enough and Petunia would stop pretending to protect her.

                Like one wrong move was all it took for her life to be forfeit.


	3. Chapter 3

_For once in my life, I was here and nowhere else. —[Maggie Stiefvater](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1330292.Maggie_Stiefvater)_

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                After her fishing trip, the days were a little nicer. Cold, as it was mid-December by this point, but the rain had ceased for the most part, leaving the roads dry. The nice conditions improved her confidence and within the week, Hattie had acquired her license.

                Mr. Newton was possibly more proud of her than Charlie was, and when he found out she’d passed her test he somehow acquired a car for her. Apparently, he put out feelers “through the grapevine,” he’d said, and found one of his old hiking buddies was selling his hatchback to upgrade to a Jeep.

                Small town life sure was something.

                Coincidentally, Hattie _loved_ the car. It was small and zippy, painted a dark, glittery midnight blue—in really good condition, though there were a few rust spots. After Charlie had Billy and Jacob come out and inspect it, and after a very thorough test-drive, he allowed Hattie to purchase it.

                She had never felt more possessive of any material object before—the first thing she did when the title was signed and money exchanged was take it to a car wash. Then she vacuumed it, bought a new air freshener, and drove to a nearby music store to buy her first CD.

                The car was freedom.

                Even though she had nowhere to go and nobody to meet, Hattie was exhilarated.

—x—

                Charlie seemed more at ease leaving her now that she had four wheels to get her to and fro. He still told her to be careful every morning as he left, ruffling her hair, but he no longer hesitated as if he were debating staying. The only problem was that now that she had a car, Hattie felt more anxious and lonely than ever before—because now she had a way to see people, she just had no people to see.

                One morning while Charlie was out, she pulled out her magical items. They were all stored in a shoebox-sized trunk under the bed in her loft. Hattie and Professor had gone to great lengths to ensure it was as inconspicuous as it could be, charming the trunk to have notice-me-nots and muggle repellants. Hattie, unbeknownst to Professor, had even keyed it to her own magical signature.

                As she opened it, she muttered a quiet _finite_ to eliminate the shrinking charm, and the trunk grew to its normal size. It was still bottomless, though there wasn’t quite enough inside to necessitate it. Copies of Professor’s old schoolbooks (hard to come by now), all her mother’s old school things (found in the Dursleys’ attic, also where she got the trunk), grimoires upon grimoires of all the things she’d learned in her eleven years under Professor’s tutelage. She had cauldrons, and stirring rods, and all sorts of magical artifacts.

                There was even an honest to goodness _wand._ Those were even harder to come by than the schoolbooks—all learning materials were prohibited by the Dark Wizard’s regime, from what she understood, unless inside one of his authorized schools. He had burned bookstores, stormed ancient manors, destroyed wand shops. He’d done so much damage it was hard to swallow that he’d only been at it for a short time.

                Why—as short ago as when Professor was a child. His associates had told her stories, fondly and a little anxiously, as if simple words could get them killed. Stories of Hogwarts in its golden age—when witches and wizards had begun their education at eleven, with wands high at the ready. A talking hat would decide which House they would belong to.

                (Professor was in House Slytherin, but Hattie’s parents were both House Gryffindor. There were other houses too, one of the associates had been House Ravenclaw and had told stories of his House Hufflepuff friends.)

                But Hattie had never had a wand before. Even holding this one, her mother’s, sparked no magic—it was not suited to her, or perhaps she was not suited to it.

                “It’s why I found you so early,” Professor had stated sourly. “I would’ve found you sooner if that old bat hadn’t hidden you away…”

                Children are naturally inclined to operate without a wand, and Professor had wanted to teach her how before she was too old and handicapped to learn properly.

                “Children are like sponges,” he’d added. “Daft sponges, snotty sponges, but sponges all the same.”

                Hattie had met a few magical children growing up—in secret of course. It’s where she got the nickname “Hattie” from, because Severus said using her real name was too dangerous. She had friends in that world still, even if it was too dangerous to contact them with any sense of regularity.

                One family, a redheaded group of wizards with far too many children, stood out in her mind. They didn’t have a Professor (not everyone was as lucky as she was), taught instead by their parents, who taught them magic via farming. They were very poor, even though the oldest son had taken a part-time job in the muggle world to help supplement their family. He was called Bill, and he taught her his hobby, curse-breaking. All the children went to muggle school as well, because if there was one thing all the wizards she’d met agreed on, it was that there was no future in the wizarding world.

                They had neighbors nearby with a little girl a year younger than Hattie, who was quite odd but fun to be around—Luna. Up the way was a boy a few years older than them, Cedric. When Hattie was fourteen she received word that he was slaughtered by Death Eaters and for months Hattie worried that they’d kill the others in the village too.

                There were others she’d met, of course: a boy called Neville, whose parents wandered his home broken and mindlessly; a pair of Indian twins called Padma and Parvati whose father spoke harshly in Hindi to their mother the entire time Professor and Hattie were at their home; a pink-cheeked girl named Hannah who was sweet and shy. Hannah’s aunt used to run the wizard’s court system and had narrowly escaped with her life when the Dark Regime took over.

                These people, and more, were what Professor and Hattie referred to as their ‘network’, a group of allies, friends, who were more like Hattie’s family. They’d raised her, in every way they could whilst in hiding. They taught her everything she knew about kindness and love and pain. After all, they were all enemies of the regime.

                Most interesting to Hattie, however, was when Professor took her to a very muggle neighborhood and introduced her to Hermione Granger. Hermione had a Professor, a woman called McGonagall who was old and stern with shaking hands. When McGonagall met Hattie she cried and had to leave the room. Hermione hadn’t said much to Hattie that first time, but that wasn’t what made her interesting—Hermione was muggleborn, which meant both of her parents were muggles.

                McGonagall had a little book in her bag that she called the Heart of Hogwarts. They’d all looked at it together on the Granger’s dining room table—it was filled with names upon names upon names. This, McGonagall said, was what would save their world in the end: the Dark Regime had Hogwarts, but McGonagall had its heart—all the students that ever had been and ever would be, all in a neat little book.

                Hattie had seen her surname written there, but before she could point it out, Professor had jerked her away. This was when she was scolded and told she must never, ever tell a wizard her real name.

                She never asked why. She wondered sometimes, but Professor had told her there were things that she could not know, for her own safety—and she trusted him irrevocably.

—x—

                Amongst all her things was her NEWT certificate—overseen, signed, and notarized by a tiny old witch. Professor assured Hattie that she had once been a part of the Wizarding Examinations Authority. This was necessary so that Hattie could have an official Mastery in the future.

                The NEWTs had been notarized of course, but could not be filed at what used to be the Ministry of Magic—so Hattie and Severus each had a copy for safekeeping. With proof of her certifications, she could become an apprentice and obtain her Mastery. That was, if there ever was a wizard capable and willing to risk it.

                Wizarding America had not been quite as affected by the Dark Regime as Wizarding Britain. In fact, many had fled here when the Dark Regime began. Now, unless you used muggle means, it was near impossible to enter or exit Britain without detection.

                It was also near impossible for her to contact Professor or any of her friends.

                Hattie had a direct line of connection to Professor—a two-way mirror which would never be able to be tampered with due to the nature of its magic. The only way to “tamper” with it would be to break the connection by shattering one mirror.

                She was not to use the mirror without ascertaining Professor’s current well-being and whereabouts. This was harder. They had several backup communications, but none were as foolproof. She could send a message via her Patronus, but someone could follow it back to her. They had charmed a gold Galleon (an old wizarding currency) to be used for code, but there was only so much you could say with code. Her preferred method of communication, besides the mirror, was to write a letter and banish it to him.

                This took a lot of magic—banishing was usually used within the same building. Over a distance, it could get tricky. She had a lot of practice, though this would be her first time doing it since she got to the United States.

                Quickly she took out some parchment, enchanted so only he or she could read it, and began her letter.

—x—

_Professor,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I would not be remiss to hear your voice, however, so please help me schedule a time for us to speak._

_I’m settling in well. I do enjoy my uncle’s company and though I miss certain charms of Britain I find I’m much more carefree here, and I do not yet want to return. I’ve not gone looking for wizarding settlements, having not had the chance, however if you have any starting points I would appreciate them._

_I start muggle school in the new year. My uncle has two children who will be joining me shortly afterward, and though I’m apprehensive of their company I cannot help but find myself intrigued by this opportunity I’ve been presented. I’ve even acquired a driver’s license! Isn’t that absurd?_

_I’ve met a few members of the local tribe and it seems a running theme that they have some sort of …_ aura, _for lack of better term—wild and reckless. It is both entirely unlike a wizard’s magic, and at once very much the same. I will investigate more when I have the chance._

_Please send me news on our acquaintances—and of course yourself._

_Merry part,_

_Hattie_

—x—

                As the weather persisted on being clear and dry, Hattie ventured finally into the forest behind their home. The path she had seen from her window was narrow and spindling, but well-worn in most places, and she didn’t fear she’d lose herself. The forest was like nothing she’d seen before: the sunlight filtering through the trees (which provided complete cover over the top, blocking out the sky) caused the entire area to take on a grey-blue hue. Not much grass grew here, but moss and dirt certainly did, and ferns. Fallen trees, old and new, littered the path.

                One tree had fallen across the path, and Hattie stopped before it, feeling like an ant who’d lost its scent trail. Logically she knew she could climb over the tree and continue on—she could even see the path in the distance—but something was stopping her.

                With images of bronze twins and boys in robes, Hattie purposefully turned and marched back to the last fork she’d seen.

—x—

                December progressed quickly, and though Professor didn’t write her back, she sent him a Christmas present. She’d never had a true Christmas before. Professor usually took her to his home and they had dinner together, but it wasn’t the affair most children are used to.

                Thus, she thought nothing of the holiday until Charlie brought home a tree. A legitimate, real Christmas tree (if a bit on the runty side).

                The weather wasn’t very Christmassy, she had yet to see any snow this year, but having the tree in the corner of their living room suddenly made the holiday real for her. Hattie had a small panic attack leaning over the kitchen counter, wondering what would be expected of her—would she stay out of the way, did she need to buy Charlie a gift? Dear god, was he going to buy her a gift? Did they need dinner? Oh no, Charlie can’t cook—Hattie would have to. How does one cook a turkey? Do Americans have different food for Christmas?

                She was in the middle of said panic attack when Charlie came in from the garage and dropped a large box of decorations in front of her, creating a huge thud on the counter. She jerked out of her panic attack, finally taking a gulp of air after hyperventilating. Charlie was looking at her with concern.

                “Hattie, hey, are you okay?” he asked, his hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

                “I’m…” Hattie began, gulping down another gasp of air. As she exhaled, her body went into a sort of numb relaxation. “Yeah, Uncle Charlie, I’m okay.”

                He didn’t look convinced. “What was all that about?”

                She didn’t know how to answer him— ‘oh, you know, casually decided not to breathe’ didn’t seem like a satisfactory response, after all. She stumbled over her thoughts in an attempt to not sound ungrateful, greedy, selfish, all of the above.

                In the end she settled on, “I got too caught up in my thoughts, but I’m okay now.”

                Charlie gave her a searching look but let it go, opening the box. “I thought we could decorate the tree. Usually don’t bother, ya know, we go to Billy’s for dinner and there’s no-one but me here to care about decorations, but…with you here and all, figured you might…want to?”

                Hattie’s eyes widened as she looked at her uncle’s bashful face. He had cut down a tree and gone through all this trouble for her, some random kid he didn’t know until two weeks ago? Maybe fate was finally paying her back for all the trouble she’d gone through as a kid.

                “Of course,” she whispered. “Thank you, Uncle Charlie. You didn’t have to…”

                “Ah, don’t worry about it. Same I’d do for my kids, ya know.”

                They ended up watching some cheesy Christmas movie on the TV while they decorated the tree. Charlie didn’t have much in the way of decorations—a lot of baubles were broken, from years stored in the shed. Hattie had the realization that it had been probably sixteen years or so since he’d shared a Christmas with his own family.

                How could this sweet, caring man have been so hurt by his own children? Hattie was trying so hard not to form opinions on her cousins before meeting them, but it really rubbed her the wrong way that they had this amazing parent here waiting to dote on them and they pushed it aside—and for what?

                There was a lot of cute, personal decorations that were obviously well-cared for: “Beaufort’s First Christmas” and “Isabella’s First Christmas”, a snowman family that had names engraved on it: “Renee” and “Charlie” and “Beau” and “Bella”. There were some handmade ones that were obviously the twins’ first handprints. She took extra care when hanging these special ornaments, and gave them the prized positions at the front of the tree where anyone who cared could see them.

                Finally, Charlie pulled the star out. This was a coveted moment, one she’d never been allowed—of course, she’d never been allowed to decorate the tree, either, but she had only ever wished to put the star on. Every year she watched Dudley be lifted and cooed over as he placed the star.

                _Control yourself,_ she thought firmly. _You’re 16, not 6._

                That was a problem she had now that she’s been with Charlie. She’d spent so long being a grown-up that now that someone wanted to baby her, she was soaking it in.

                But still, Charlie posed her beside the tree with the star and clicked a picture and she couldn’t help the cheek-splitting grin that lit her face as she placed it atop the fully decorated tree.

                He fished something out of his pocket and looked a little awkward as he held it out to her. She still was grinning from finishing up the tree, packing up the box—so seeing the tiny package wrapped in tissue paper was kind of bizarre to her.

                “What’s this?” she asked, hesitatingly.

                Charlie scratched the back of his neck. “Ah, you know. I just figured with all the family stuff on the tree, we might be able to make you feel a little at home. Take it.”

                She took it gently from his hands. From the weight of it, she could only guess what it was—eyes searching his, she slowly unwrapped it. Hattie was horrified to find tears clouding her vision.

                “It’s just I know you didn’t have any time with your parents,” Charlie rushed. “They didn’t get to do any of this with you. And knowin’ Tuney, she and Lily…well they weren’t close, and I can’t imagine what your childhood was like. Awh, Hattie, don’t cry honey—I’m sorry if I overstepped—”

                She cut him off by throwing herself at him, the ornament clutched in her hand. It was four reindeer, and engraved on each one was a name:

                Charlie, Beau, Bella, and Hattie.

                It was such a ridiculous thing to cry over, but it was all she’d ever wanted in her whole life: to be accepted as a part of a real family. The Dursleys had never tried—Vernon and Dudley hated her and would rather lick the grime off their boots than say a single kind word about her. Petunia greatly disliked her and saw her as a tool to gain social standing—a pretty doll.

                Even Severus, for all that he’d done for her, had never pretended she was his family. She could still remember being seven and having grown so fond of him, he taught her, he fed her, he gave her sweets when she was good and books and even, once, she’d gotten a dolly. She’d slipped up in her mind. Called him “daddy.”

                She knew he wasn’t her dad. But, in her mind, he’d done the bare minimum a dad needed to do. She’d mistaken his kindness for love and he had shouted at her—it was the angriest she’d ever seen him. Tiny Hattie went home that night crying, wondering why nobody wanted her. In the years following, she never made the error of mistaking fondness for love.

                But Charlie…

                She’d been here for little more than two weeks, and he’d done more for her—cared more for her—than anyone in her entire life.

                As a shocked Charlie folded his arms around her shaking shoulders, she praised whatever fate had sent her to Forks.

—x—

                “Billy, I don’t know how to handle her,” Charlie told his longest friend quietly. Jacob was asleep in the house and—gods did he like that boy, but this was a private conversation. “She’s affection starved. When she first got here I hugged her and she stiffened up like nobody had ever done it before. You look at her with fondness and she melts under your gaze. I’m just… worried about her.”

                He and Billy were sat on the porch of his little red house, each of them holding a can of beer. Billy’s house was cheerfully decorated, Christmas lights twinkling on the porch overhang, tree proudly displayed in the window. He took a long drag from his can, sighing.

                Billy appeared deep in thought, tightening and loosening his hand around the can of beer to make the aluminum crinkle and pop. Charlie watched the movement, lost in his own dark thoughts.

                He had half the mind to just call up Tuney and ask her what the girl’s problems were, but if _Tuney_ was the girl’s problems, that wouldn’t do him any good.

                Gods he loved his little sisters but Tuney had always been a bit theatrical. Charlie had been long gone when Lily got accepted into that special boarding school in Scotland—he’d gone in search of himself and found it here in Forks, of all places. But without Charlie, Tuney had relied on Lily for companionship, and the knowledge that some school thought Lily was better than Tuney had drained on her.

                The sisters’ relationship had never been the same. Lily tried, but Charlie couldn’t blame her for getting angry at Tuney’s irrational behavior.

                Charlie hadn’t talked to Tuney in years—probably since Dudley was born. He hadn’t known Lily and James had died. He hadn’t known Tuney had custody of Hattie. If there’s one thing that moving across the ocean shows you, it’s how hard it is to keep in touch with everyone back home. _Especially_ when you’re a young adult with barely any money to your name.

                He’d always imagined that Petunia had matured as she grew up—stopped being the theatrical young girl and become the wise, motherly young woman. But if what he suspected was true _was_ true, then he feared Hattie’s mental health.

                He wasn’t Chief of Police for nothing. Sure, some things flew over his head, but he was much more perceptive than he led on. Sometimes the best thing you can do is let people underestimate you.

                The first day he met her she’d stiffened when he hugged her, and when he was asking about her childhood she specifically left out anything to do with Petunia or Dudley or her uncle…what’s his name…Victor? Charlie couldn’t remember for the life of him. She waxed poetic about some professor of hers, but didn’t seem to have any friends outside of him.

                Then everything else—every tiny fond touch he gave her, every hair ruffle, half-hug, caring smile. Every “be careful” or “call me if you need anything”. Every time he told her that he was treating her how he’d treat Bella or Beau.

                Her pretty green eyes would widen, staring at him like he was a foreign entity, and then she’d melt under his gaze like she’d…

                Well, like she’d never experience _caring_ before.

                Then—decorating the Christmas tree.

                Now, Charlie had to admit, he had a hard time remembering the girl was sixteen. Hell, she’d be eighteen in a year and a half! She’d filled out a little bit since coming here, but she still just looked like a thirteen-year-old.

                A child.

                And yes, maybe he was prone to babying her a little bit. He wasn’t normally the touchy feely type, but a needy child was different. And anyone looking at her could tell she needed for something.

                So, he’d went and gotten her a Christmas tree. Then, after he set it up in the living room, he’d dug out his and Renee’s old Christmas decorations—when he came in he’d found her in the middle of a full-on breakdown and all she’d tell him is she was “too caught up in her thoughts”? At first, he thought maybe realizing it was Christmastime was making her homesick, even though he’d had his doubts about Petunia’s care of the girl before this.

                Hattie had had way too much fun decorating the tree—the smile she had when he let her put the star on was at once heartwarming and heart _breaking._ He had debated not even giving her the ornament, wondering if it would be too much for her obviously fragile emotions at the moment.

                He’d been right, but the crying had been happy tears.

                What kind of a life could she have lived that a $10 Christmas ornament with her name engraved on it could cause her to bawl like that?

                Billy’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, his friend’s slow, deep words washing over him. “What’s done is done, Charlie. There’s nothing to worry about now. Just love her, and all will be well in time.”

                Charlie jerked his head in a sad replica of a nod, wondering what he’d gotten himself into—going from a bachelor in a too-big house to the full-time father of three near-grown teenagers in the span of a month.


	4. Chapter 4

_“It's so, so stupid what we do to ourselves because we're afraid. It's so stupid.”_ _―[Sarah Dessen](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2987.Sarah_Dessen)_

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                Hattie probably spent way too long getting dressed on Christmas morning. Even now she stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, debating if she was dressed appropriately.

                Her wild black hair had been tamed into a pretty up-do with curls framing her face, just like Petunia had always taught her. (She guessed that something about those ostentatious tea parties had been useful.) She didn’t really own anything Christmassy, but she _did_ have an emerald green circle skirt, into which she’d tucked a white long-sleeved V-neck. It was sort of cold outside, so she was wearing thick white tights.

                With frustration, Hattie noticed that her shirt was abnormally tight across her chest—what used to be form-fitting barely fit at all, due to the way she was filling out. Hattie debated changing again, but she’d already spent so much time and energy on it. Besides, when she put on her oversized cardigan, nobody would be able to tell.  

                “Don’t worry, honey, you look beautiful,” Charlie’s voice called, from the bottom of the stairs. “If we don’t hurry up, though, we’re going to be late.”

                Hattie called an apology and ran to get her things. She threw on the cardigan haphazardly, stuffed her feet into the first pair of shoes she found, and hurriedly donned her coat and gloves. Then, almost forgetting, she stooped to scoop up her small pile of presents.

                There, ready to go.

                Wanting to make sure she was no longer keeping Charlie, Hattie zoomed by him and out the door. The car was already loaded—Charlie had bought Billy and Jake both small presents, as well as Harry Clearwater’s kids, and had even had the forethought to bring out the dish Hattie prepared. She plopped her presents down in the back seat of his cruiser and was buckled into the passenger seat, shivering, by the time Charlie started the car.

                “Alright,” Charlie hummed, tapping a beat on the steering wheel as he pulled out. “Christmas dinner, here we come!”

                Charlie sang Christmas tunes all the way to La Push, and Hattie joined in with the ones she knew for a little while. She couldn’t help smiling and sighing happily to herself. This was a dream come true for her.

                This morning she and Charlie had exchanged gifts together. Charlie had insisted, with a roguish grin, that Santa came down their non-existent chimney and brought the small stack of gifts, filling her stocking along the way. It was his way of downplaying the money spent, so she didn’t protest too much, but made sure to thank him extra all the way through breakfast.

                He had filled her stocking with sweets and some cute stocking stuffers, like a set of earbuds, a new toothbrush, lip balm, socks, nail polish. Small, thoughtful little gifts. On top of all of that—which was already more than she’d even imagined getting—he’d gotten Hattie her own cell phone. Charlie warned her that he knew nothing of technology and that it was a recommended model. This suited Hattie perfectly.

                And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he added a couple of pretty clothing items (“Sue Clearwater mighta helped a little with those…” he’d admitted sheepishly) and, her favorite—the photo albums.

                He had given her two photo albums. The first was of her mother’s childhood and young adolescent years. The second one was mostly empty, save for few pictures:

                The first was Hattie with her first fish, Charlie standing in the background holding it. Her heart warmed, and she nearly cried when she saw it. Then there was a picture she hadn’t even known was taken: herself, curled up in a blanket, asleep. Next to her was Jacob Black, also asleep, arm thrown around the back of the couch behind her. They both leaned to the right, though she wasn’t quite leaning against him—both had their heads tilted at the same angle and their mouths open.

                This must have been post-fishing trip, when she’d fallen asleep at Jacob’s and somehow woken up in her own bed. (She still didn’t want to think how that happened, though her foggy memories had her suspecting Jacob had carried her to the car, but how had she gotten from the car to the bed?)

                The third, and last, was Hattie with her giant grin, placing the star atop the tree.

                “Figured we can get you a camera and start your photo album,” Charlie grunted when she’d hugged him so hard it knocked the air out of his lungs. “Glad ya like it, kiddo.”

                Afterwards, Hattie’s gift to him felt underwhelming—a new band for his beloved watch and new tackle set. He had seemed to like them, but she felt like they didn’t live up to his amazing gift.

                They’d then had breakfast together, which Hattie had made—French toast and scrambled eggs and sausages. She knew that the Dursleys often ate pigs in blankets, but apparently that wasn’t a tradition here and personally—Hattie didn’t love bacon the way most people did anyways.

                When Charlie and Hattie arrived at the Clearwaters’ house, Billy and Jacob were also just arriving. Charlie hopped out quickly to help Jacob get Billy up the stairs and into the house whilst Hattie hung back, gathering everything from the car and watching the trio.

                Charlie had known Billy since before Hattie was born. As an outsider, even she could admire the level of familiarity the duo shared. And Charlie was obviously quite fond of Jacob, even when he pretended to push the boy down the stairs for dropping Billy’s wheelchair on Charlie’s foot.

                Hattie continued up the stairs after the boys, hers and Charlie’s gifts stacked atop the casserole dish. She’d made a cheesy potato casserole—not traditionally Christmassy, but that way, Hattie knew it wouldn’t be a repeat dish at the dinner. As she came up the stairs, both Jacob and Charlie turned to help her carry her burden.

                “Oh!” Charlie chuckled as their hands collided. Then he pulled the presents out of Hattie’s hands and allowed Jacob to take the casserole. “Good man,” he said gruffly, clapping Jacob on the shoulder.

                Hattie smiled shyly at the both of them as Charlie headed in. Jacob was staring at her with huge eyes, as if he’d never seen her before. After a moment, he shook himself and offered her his arm.

                “Let’s head in, it’s chilly.”

                So she let him guide her in, his arm around her back. There wasn’t a ton of people—not that Hattie had expected there to be—so it wasn’t too crowded in the Clearwaters’ modest home.

                There was, of course, Charlie and herself. Billy was settled at the table with Harry, who was for once not dressed in a plaid button down and fishing vest. In the kitchen was who Hattie assumed was Sue Clearwater and her daughter, Leah—a tall, lithe young woman with long dark hair and sad eyes. Jacob was glaring at a boy slightly younger than them—he must’ve been Seth, who was around fourteen, with a cheerful disposition. Seth was glancing between Jacob and Hattie, smirking.

                “Come in, come in! You must be Hattie!” Sue called, breaking up the silent confrontation—Seth smirking, Jacob glaring, Hattie just feeling confused. “Oh, I told Charlie not to make you cook anything! Charlie you dog!”

                Charlie was protesting at the table next to Harry. Hattie wasn’t paying a ton of attention as Jacob helped her out of her coat, hanging it on the rack.

                “You look beautiful, Hattie,” Harry called. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Jake? Seth?”

                Suddenly both boys seemed much more awkward—Seth was blushing and Jake was scratching the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

                “She does,” Seth agreed. “Jake thinks so too, he was staring!”

                “Seth!” admonished Jake, who was blushing now too.

                “It’s true!” Seth and Jacob started squabbling as the men laughed. Hattie felt a little uncomfortable, pulling her cardigan tighter around her, and Leah must have taken notice to her discomfort.

                “Knock it off, _some of us_ are trying to enjoy ourselves!” she snapped. Sure enough, both boys went quiet. Leah glanced at her fleetingly, and Hattie tried to portray her appreciation through her eyes.

                Dinner was nice—Hattie sat with Charlie, Billy, and Jacob and they ate and chatted quietly. It was not the formal affair that Hattie remember the Dursleys’ Christmas dinner being. They didn’t give thanks, there was no formal dinnerware, cloth napkins seemed entirely too posh for this situation. It was relaxed and friendly and pleasant, and dinner was _delicious._

                Hattie got compliments on her dish too, but Sue’s dinner was definitely the main affair.

                After dinner, Hattie insisted on helping clean up, even if Sue was trying to be nice by not letting her. The pair quickly packed away dinner, stacking up plates of food for people to take home because, as Sue put it, “I haven’t got nearly enough room in my stomach nor my fridge for all of this!” Then they cleared the table and began the arduous task of washing dishes.

                “You’re a good girl, Hattie,” Sue commented idly. “Leah’s a good girl, too, but she could take some pointers from you.”

                Hattie blushed, keeping her head down. “I don’t know. She seems great. A little sad, but great.”

                Sue hummed lightly, as if unsure whether she should discuss this or not. There was nothing but the sound of water splashing and the men messing around outside for a little while. Then she must have decided it was a safe topic, because she continued, “You’re right, she is a little sad. She had a bad break-up recently, and it’s been rough on her. Do you know what that’s like?”

                Hattie didn’t. She’d never had a close friend, let alone a significant other, and relayed this quietly to Sue. Sue laughed a little. “Good girl, relationships are trouble. I hope you never get your heart broken as badly as Leah did.”

                Hattie sighed wistfully. It wasn’t something she thought about frequently—oh, sure, she knew she had a pretty face. Her aunt had told her often enough, derisively, as if that was the worst sin Hattie had ever committed.

People may be taken by pretty faces, maybe even lust after them, but they certainly don’t fall in love with them—it’s everything else that counts. Hattie wasn’t sure that it was worth falling in love with the girl behind her pretty face.

                Someone bustled into the kitchen behind them—Leah, her hair pulled back into a bun. She edged Hattie out of the way and Sue waved her off, telling her to go play with the boys.

                Wiping her hands on a towel, Hattie headed out the back, where the men were all bundled up and tossing around a ball. It was a little chilly just standing there, and as much as she’d like to join in, she wasn’t wearing the proper clothes for it.

                Athleticism was something she’d always prided herself on. Dancing, sports, yoga, swimming—any way she could move her body was a good way. Ever since coming to Forks, she hadn’t had much chance to do so. The weather was almost always poor, and Hattie hadn’t had the opportunity to find any classes.

                In England, one of her favorite times was during the summer. Her schedule was always jam-packed: working around the house, going to tea parties with her aunt, muggle school, magical school. She had hardly any time to herself. During the summer, when muggle school let out, she always told her aunt that Professor was keeping her longer. Professor, however, was told that her _aunt_ was keeping her longer.

                In this small period of time—usually an hour or two a day—nobody was looking for her. There were no demands to follow.

                Hattie would join any class that was in the area. Often these were things like yoga or spin, meant for bored housewives, but once there was a ballet class. Ballet was something Hattie enjoyed immensely. It cost little concentration and effort for her to emulate the graceful, floating moves. Professor had once told her she was built like a ‘seeker’ (a position in an old wizard’s broomstick game), which meant she was small and lithe and surprisingly quick—the natural disposition for a dancer.

                Thinking about all of the fun activities she’d enjoyed in the past made her long for companionship. She hadn’t realized how _lonely_ she was, aching for extra human interaction…even if it came from an instructor berating her form.

                Hattie resolved herself to finding some sort of group to join, and soon, before she went stir-crazy. It might already be happening. Yesterday she cleaned the oven three times in an hour because there was simply nothing else to do in the house.  She had long since read all the novels she’d brought with her, and there was only so much magic she could practice.

                Perhaps if she signed up for an activity she could even make some friends.

                As if praising her for her mental resolution, the ball the men were playing with landed right in front of Hattie. She blinked at it, cocking her head. Almost without thought, she scooped it up and brought it back out to play.

                Yes—she ripped her tights, and she definitely didn’t look prim and proper with her skirt flying about, but Hattie had fun. Even if the game was only an overcomplicated version of keep-away, in which all the boys seemed determined that she was the one they were “keeping away” from.

                At one point Charlie threw her over his shoulder, surprisingly not stumbling (even though he had no coordination at all) and ran away with her, threatening to toss her in the ocean.

                It was the most fun she’d had in a long time.

                After the game, as it was getting dark and everyone was getting ready to go home, Jacob pulled her aside. He seemed a little shy, but his eyes reflected the orange of the setting sun in an unearthly way and she couldn’t stop staring.

                “I made you something,” he said quietly. In the background Billy and Charlie were saying noisy goodbyes.

                Hattie blinked as Jacob handed her a small, crudely wrapped present. She began to unwrap it, smiling a little to herself—she had given him a copy of the novel they’d attempted to share during the fishing trip. But he had _made_ her a gift, which thrilled her in a way she hadn’t known possible.

                “It’s not much,” Jacob hurried to tell her, as she pulled away the last of the wrapping paper. “I just thought…it might look nice on you.”

                It was a headband, woven out of leather strings. There were a couple of sparkly clay beads woven into it, and it was simply divine.

                Immediately Hattie tied it into her hair, gasping. “Jacob, thank you! It’s beautiful.”

                She darted forward and wrapped him in a hug, feeling overwhelmed with the amount of care people had been showing her. Jacob touched the headband and smiled softly, and before she knew it she was caught in his gaze again. His eyes were bottomless, reflecting the sun into pools of deep chocolatey brown.

                It seemed like forever before they broke apart—just staring at one another. He seemed to be scrutinizing her face, eyebrows pulling together just the tiniest bit. Hattie wondered what he was thinking, what he saw in her eyes that had him so entranced.

                He leaned slightly forward and that fire alit in her belly again, just like on the boat. They were so close together now, there was no missing what was happening. In every movie she’d ever glimpsed, this was how it started: whether it was pouring rain, or they were standing on a warm, sandy beach—this was how that very first kiss began.

                Her eyes fluttered closed, and he came even closer, his breath ghosting across her lips. He smelled like pumpkin pie and she had never needed someone as much as she needed Jacob right now.

                Then—

                “Hattie, it’s getting late!”

                Hattie startled at Charlie’s voice, pulling back from Jacob and blinking wildly. He was still in the same position, staring at her as if she held the world in her hands.

                She couldn’t pretend it was her imagination—he looked disappointed. _Hattie_ felt a little disappointment, too.

                “Coming, Uncle Charlie,” she called, still looking at Jacob. As she turned, he moved forward, catching her arm.

                “Hattie,” he murmured. She turned her face back towards him. “Merry Christmas.”

                And so, so gently he kissed her cheek. She was frozen there for a quick moment as he loped away, towards where his dad was already rolling himself home. Then Charlie called her again and she, too, turned away.

                On the ride home, Charlie was silent. Hattie wondered if it was because he had witnessed her near-kiss, and if he had, if he was angry about it. She touched her cheek and smiled a little bit. If he was angry, that was fine—but she wasn’t.

                “So, Jacob, huh?” Charlie finally said after a little while.

                “Hm?” Hattie asked, tearing her gaze from the horizon. “Jacob?”

                “He’s a nice boy,” her uncle said begrudgingly.

                “He kissed my cheek,” she blurted, touching it again. “That means he likes me, right?”

                Charlie was silent for a moment, and then he laughed. “Oh, Hattie. Yes, I think he likes you.”

—x—

                That night, as she lay in bed replaying her almost-perfect Christmas, Hattie still found room in her heart to feel sad.

                She missed Professor.

                She spent most Christmases with him, donning her winter gear and walking to his home in the early hours of the morning. The Dursleys never missed her, and she privately thought Severus enjoyed the company on a day meant for family. Even if they weren’t family in the traditional sense of the word, they might as well have been; each of them only had the other, and their allies.

                So she would buy him a small present each year, something silly he would never buy himself. Knick-knacks, usually. And she’d try to impress him with potions she made up on the spot, often unusable (she wasn’t a trained potioneer, after all, and there were hardly any books left on the art anyways). And he would gift her something, too: once, when she was little, it had been a dolly. But their tradition was to order Chinese takeaway and spend the day in the study reading for fun instead of learning.

                They were birds of a feather in that, too.

                With the silence she was receiving from Professor’s end, Hattie was feeling a little bit empty.  It was strange not having the traditions she held close to her, even though they weren’t what most people would think of as being ‘Christmassy’. They were hers, and that was what was important.

                That night, she ended up stuffing her feet into her shoes and quietly making her way out into the loft. She pulled out her trunk from beneath her bed, carefully retrieving her cauldron and potions kit from inside. Her intention was to make a silly potion, but when she pulled out her cauldron a hollow _thunk_ resonated from within. She jumped with the noise, peering over the edge with disdain.

                Inside was a carefully wrapped gift, and a tiny missive atop it, which read _Merry Christmas, you daft girl._

—x—

                The week following Christmas flew by faster than any week had the right to do. Most of it was spent preparing for Hattie’s inevitable first day of school, which, of course, came around all too quickly. Her belly was a mess of nervous butterflies as she dressed, trying to scan her brain to remember what the other students had been wearing.

                Somehow, she didn’t think dressing like she was going to a tea party would help her fit in.

                Instead she donned a pair of nice jeans and one of the tops Sue had helped Charlie pick out, throwing her cardigan over top and then her winter coat. Hattie tied her hair up with the headband Jacob made her and made sure her bag was packed.

                Notebooks, pens, pencils, a calculator, anything she thought she might need. Even an umbrella. She had her wallet, her car keys…there was no reason for her to continue procrastinating.

                No reason except nerves.

                Finally, she strolled down the stairs. Charlie had gotten bored waiting for her and resorted to cereal for breakfast, so she followed suit. He attempted to make conversation, but she was too nervous, so he allowed her to brood in peace.

                After what seemed like only a few moments, Charlie had to head out to work. He kissed her head as he left, wishing her a good first day.

                “Be safe,” he called from the door, where she could hear him jiggling around with his holster. “Call me if you need anything. _Anything,_ Hattie.”

                She stood abruptly. Her _phone._ She’d known there was something she was forgetting!

                After she grabbed it, Hattie rushed to her car. It was a relatively clear day, a blessing for which Hattie was not ungrateful—if only it were to be spent somewhere enjoyable. She sighed to herself as she pulled out of the driveway, pointed in the direction of Forks High School.

                The parking lot was already half full by the time Hattie arrived, and she had to spend extra time in the main office. It seemed like it took forever to get her finished schedule and a horrid pink slip, which was to be signed by each of her teachers. By the time that was done, Hattie had to scour the parking lot for a space and found exactly _one_ next to a shiny silver Volvo.

                Luckily her first class was nearby, so she followed a pair of young boys inside. They hung their coats on a rack inside the door and ventured further into the building. With only a slight hesitation, Hattie copied them, spending a moment fussing with her cardigan as a guise for steeling her nerves.

                When she was sure she would be alright, Hattie searched out her English teacher, Mr. Mason.

                “Ah, you must be Heather,” he said cheerfully. “Welcome. Find a seat, anywhere will do! We’re starting a new semester so you’re right on time.”

                Hattie didn’t have a chance to correct him. As soon as he was done signing her pink slip, Mr. Mason ushered her into the classroom.

                It felt like everybody was staring at her, even though very obviously they weren’t—there was just so many faces. Hattie hadn’t been in a crowd this big in well over a month. Her gaze fell upon an open spot close to where she stood and she dove for it, relieved to be tucked out of the way.

                Next to her was a tall, dark-haired boy with greasy hair and an acne problem. He sort of reminded Hattie of what Professor might’ve looked like as a child. Her lips quirked in amusement.

                It was almost as soon as she sat down that he began chatting to her. He seemed friendly, but over-eager, like he had been waiting to get his claws into something new and juicy. It put Hattie off a little bit.

                “You must be the new girl, Chief Swan’s niece, right? Heather?” the boy chatted, angling his body toward hers. “I’m Eric.”

                She was unpacking a notebook and pen and nodded at him slowly. She didn’t want to encourage him, but thus far he hadn’t done anything wrong. Instead, she replied politely—but coolly. “Yes, I am. I’m Hattie. Nice to meet you.”

                “I love your accent!” Eric gushed, leaning just a little too close to her. His greasy hair shone in the light and Hattie resisted the urge to put space between them. “Where are you from?”

                Hattie was distracted from answering when the door swung open and one last straggler came in. Even windswept she looked like a supermodel—the bronze-haired twin Hattie had seen in December. She’d nearly forgotten about them and the weird dream they’d starred in. Honestly, the reminder of the anxiety-inducing dream really _did not_ help her nerves.

                Still, Hattie couldn’t help but stare at the newcomer. Her hair was long and loose, messy in a purposeful way. Though the girl was petite, she held herself tall and confidently. The only flaw Hattie could find was dark, bruise-like circles under her light eyes.

                “Nice of you to join us, Edythe,” Mr. Mason called as the girl entered. Hattie watched with interested eyes as she stalked to her desk.

                As she passed, Hattie went rigid in her seat—Edythe gave off a controlling, indescribable aura. Like fury that had run deep since the beginning of time, like ancient hunger, like a hunter’s coiled tension as they waited to pounce on their prey. Then, alongside or maybe coiled into it, was knowledge and strength and resolution. It prickled her skin.

                Hattie got the feeling that Edythe was powerful.

                As if sensing Hattie thinking about her, the bronze haired twin met Hattie’s eyes. There was hostility in the honey-colored gaze, but also curiosity. Edythe stared at Hattie for longer than was necessary, a faint frown on her face. Hattie’s heartbeat quickened with each second, wondering what was going through the other girl’s mind.

                Luckily the connection was broken when Mr. Mason began speaking, circulating some papers around the room. Still, Hattie couldn’t help feeling uneasy when she thought of the piercing, topaz eyes.

                “Now that all of us are present, I’m going to pass out this semester’s syllabus…”

—x—

                The rest of the day zoomed by pretty quickly, nowhere near as atrocious as Hattie had feared. Given it was the first day of a brand-new semester, she didn’t have any work to catch up on. The only thing she had to do was integrate herself into the social setting, which was possibly more daunting than a stack of missed assignments.

                After English was US History, with an unfortunately named Mrs. Mackerel, who Hattie had already decided was the devil. The woman was the only teacher who made Hattie stand before the class and introduce herself. Though embarrassed, face burning red, at least one good thing had come of it: this class knew she went by Hattie and not Heather.

                In History she met a nice girl named Angela, who walked Hattie to her next class—art. Angela was sweet, and Hattie took an instant liking to the unassuming girl, who didn’t ask any intrusive questions and demanded nothing from her. It was a breath of fresh air.

                Art was followed by Algebra II (and we’re not even going to get into that atrocity, which worked parts of Hattie’s brain in ways they hadn’t needed to be worked in a while). By the time Algebra was over, Hattie’s stomach was protesting, hungry for food.

                Angela caught her before she could leave, inviting Hattie to sit with her at lunch. With a small smile, Hattie agreed.

                They walked together out into the cloudy parking lot, headed for the cafeteria. Angela’s huge camera hung around her neck, swinging gently as they walked.

                “I’m on the yearbook committee,” Angela explained when she noticed Hattie looking. “It’s an elective. It looks good on college applications, if you want to go to school for art.”

                Hattie recalled Ms. Cope talking about it in December. “Oh yeah, there weren’t anymore spaces available. Do you like it?”

                Angela shrugged. “I don’t dislike it. I love photography, but the yearbook has pretty strict guidelines on what can and can’t be in it. I wish I had more freedom.”

                “I get that,” Hattie said. She adjusted the straps of her backpack, which were heavy with the new textbooks. Idly she wondered if anybody would notice her putting a featherweight charm on the bag.

                (She decided not to risk it, instead making plans to put her excess books in her car after lunch.)

                “What do you do for fun?” Angela asked. “You’re in art class, are you an artist?”

                Hattie surprised them both by letting out a loud, genuine laugh. “God no,” she gasped. “I can’t draw to save my life. It was just my only option, practically. No, I like to cook, and read, but my passion is athleticism.”

                Angela’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not so good at sports. What do you play?”

                They were entering the cafeteria now. They both had bagged lunches, so they headed toward the tables. Angela lead Hattie toward an empty one in the center, clearly having a specific table in mind. As they settled in, both pulling out their lunches, Hattie continued the conversation.

                “I dance,” Hattie said, shrugging. She unzipped her floral lunchbox, carefully pulling out her food. “I’m actually not that picky. I’ve done yoga, ballet, swimming. I like trying new sports. Football…er, soccer here, I guess—that’s one of my favorites.”

                While she was talking, they were joined by more and more people. A trio of girls—one brunette, one blond, one platinum blond. Eric, and a baby-faced blond boy, also joined them. Lastly a small Asian boy plopped down next to Eric, nearly spilling his lunch.

                “You like soccer?” the platinum blond asked, her voice nasally. It was clear she didn’t quite believe Hattie—tiny, lithe Hattie—could actually play, but she was also trying to not be nasty.

                Angela introduced them all, quietly: the nasally girl was Lauren Mallory, and with her were Jessica Stanley and McKayla Newton. Eric’s friends were Mike Newton and Ben Cheney.

                McKayla was deep in conversation with Lauren, but Hattie leaned toward Mike excitedly. Mr. Newton had done good by her, teaching her to drive during the weeks before Christmas and even locating a car for her.

                “Your dad is really nice,” she told him cheerfully. “He taught me how to drive and helped me find a car when I got here.”

                Mike seemed overly interested. “Oh? Did he, you know, talk about me?” He must’ve been annoyed by having to lean around Eric and Ben, because he quickly switched seats, plopping down on the bench facing Hattie.

                Hattie shrugged. “Not really. He mentioned he had kids, but not much about them.”

                Mike looked pretty relieved at that, swinging himself around to continue eating his lunch—next to her now, instead of a couple seats down—and started chatting at her. He reminded her of a puppy dog.

                Hattie was distracted, though, when she noticed Edythe and her group coming in.

                They were even more beautiful close up. There was six of them, as Hattie had noticed back in December: three boys and three girls. They were all pale, pale as the moon—pale as corpses, with bruise-like circles under their eyes. What was chilling was that, though most of them couldn’t possibly be related, they all had the same honey colored eyes.

                The boys looked more like men than high school students. They could’ve been college students or even teachers. One was huge, all wide shoulders and heavy muscles like a body builder. His hair was dark and curly, and though his appearance was intimidating he had soft dimples on his cheeks.

                With him was a woman whose looks put even Edythe to shame. Her long, curly blond hair was in a perfect up-do and her face had a sort of timeless, regal beauty. She would’ve been better suited to a runway, even with her thick curves, than a high school cafeteria.

                The other girl was tiny, smaller even than Edythe, maybe around Hattie’s height. It was hard to tell from the distance, but it was possible she was even smaller. She looked like she’d dropped right out of the 20s, with her inky black hair cut into a pixie bob and her elfin face.

                Then there was the man next to her—tall, possibly taller than the body builder, muscled but in a different sort of way. Like he’d spent all his time outdoors, working the land. He had golden blond locks coiffed up into a stylish, albeit windswept, up-do. His face was pained, and the stiff set of his shoulders made Hattie think he was uncomfortable.

                Then there was Edythe, of course, and her bronze-haired twin: the youngest-looking of the boys, the smallest. He looked small compared to the body builder and the blond, but Hattie guess he must be at least six-foot, if not more, with wiry muscles.

                “Who’re they?” Hattie asked Angela, not taking her eyes off them. There was just something about them…Hattie couldn’t put her finger on it.

                Hattie had the thought that they were grenades—perfectly safe with the pin still in, but you wouldn’t really want to mess with them in fear of them blowing up. Safe and dangerous all at once.

                As she thought this, Edythe’s twin glanced up and met Hattie’s eyes. Having already been down this road once, Hattie looked away, noting that Edythe was smiling into her plate.

                Angela explained quietly, “The big one is Emmett Cullen, then there’s Jasper and Rosalie Hale, the blonds. They’re all seniors. The little one is Alice Cullen, she’s Emmett’s little sister, and then that’s Edythe and Edward Cullen. They’re in our class. They moved here a couple years ago from Alaska, with Dr. Cullen.”

                “They’re a family?” Hattie confirmed, looking still at the bronze twins—Edythe and Edward. Edythe was now in what looked to be an intense conversation with Alice, but Edward’s head was cocked a little as if he was listening to something.

                Hattie tried not to feel as if it were her conversation.

                “The Hales are Mrs. Cullen’s niece and nephew I guess, she’s had them for a long time, but the Cullens are all adopted. You wouldn’t believe it if you saw how young the doctor and his wife are,” Jessica gossiped, leaning in to be part of the conversation. “They’re kind of _weird._ They keep to themselves. And they’re all together—like _together_ together. Alice and Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie.”

                Hattie flashed a look at Jessica, irritated at the girl’s rudeness. “They’re not related,” she pointed out. “Isn’t that kind of judgmental of you?”

                Jessica huffed out a nervous laugh like she thought Hattie was joking. “Yeah, but they live together. Isn’t that strange?”

                “Finding your happiness isn’t strange.” Hattie insisted, in a no-nonsense tone. “If they’re adopted, you have no idea what they went through to get to where they are. Cut them a little slack.”

                Before Jessica could say anything—or any of the rest of the group, who had gone quiet at her proclamation—Hattie stood and left the cafeteria. Behind her Angela was whispering to her friends.

                “Jessica, be a little more sensitive. Hattie lives with her uncle now, remember?”

                But Hattie pushed it out of her mind, seeking sanctuary in her car. All she could think was no wonder the Cullens kept to themselves, if this is how people treated them.

                She brushed off all the thoughts she’d previously had of them. Or course they seemed dangerous: they were guarded, used to being hurt by the people around them. Hattie was much the same, a little high-strung. If her Professor hadn’t stepped in at such an early age, Hattie assumed that her shyness might have manifested as something very similar to the Cullens’ guarded nature.

                She thought of the boy in the House Gryffindor tie from her dream, what seemed like years ago now. His tense shoulders, pained eyes.

                Yes—maybe that’s how she would’ve been.


	5. Chapter 5

_You couldn’t expect anyone else to share your suffering. You had to carry your pain alone._ _―[Kass Morgan](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6922454.Kass_Morgan)_

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                Their mother drove them to the airport with the windows rolled down. She sat in the front seat, her brother in the back—it was beautiful in Phoenix. Seventy-five degrees, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue.

                She was wearing her favorite shirt, which her mother had given her: white, sleeveless, lacy. It was a farewell gesture, a goodbye to beautiful Phoenix.

                It’d been three years since she’d been to Washington, but even she couldn’t forget the dreary weather. Forks, Washington existed in the Olympic Peninsula under a near constant cover of clouds, seeing more rainfall than nearly any other place in the United States.

                Their mother had escaped from this miserable town and it’s gloomy, omnipresent shade when they were only a few months old. She’d been brave, or possibly stupid, to venture out into the world on her own with only her infant twins in tow. That was seventeen years ago.

                For over a decade she and Beau had been compelled to spend two weeks of every summer with their dad, Charlie, in this melancholy town of Forks. Then, three years ago, she’d put her foot down. Beau had gone along with it, and ever since then they’d vacationed in sunny southern California with their dad instead.

                It was a self-exile, one she and Beau had agreed upon together. Even still, the idea of banishing herself to Forks was horrifying. She hated the town. They loved Phoenix, with its blistering heat and vigorous, sprawling city. And Beau would leave behind more than Bella; he had true friends here, a prospective future.

                “Kids,” Renee said in desperation, one last time before they boarded their plane. “Really, you don’t have to do this.”

                Beau spared Bella a glance, then lowered his blue eyes. They’d agreed. Perhaps they might have wavered if either were singular, but they would always be a team.

                Still, Renee looked like her—except with short hair and laugh lines. She felt a sort of panic looking into those youthful brown eyes. How could they leave their mother, their scatter-brained, erratic mother? Of course, she was married now. Phil would ensure the bills got paid, groceries were bought, that there was gas in the car. He’d give her directions when she got lost.

                These thoughts strengthened her resolve, which Renee must’ve seen, because she wilted a little.

                “Bella,” Renee tried.

                “I want to go,” Bella insisted. “So does Beau.”

                “Yeah,” Beau agreed. To Bella’s ears it sounded like a plea for help, but their mother bought it, nodding resignedly.

                “Tell Charlie I said hi,” Renee sighed. “Be safe.”

                “We will,” Beau told her, and this time he sounded more self-assured. “We’ll see you soon, mom.”

                “You can come home whenever you want. I’ll come right back as soon as you need me.”

                But they both knew the sacrifices she’d have to make in order to do that. They shared another look, blue eyes meeting brown, steadfast.

                “Don’t worry about us,” Bella forced a smile. “It’ll be great. I love you mom.”

                “I love you,” Beau agreed.

                She hugged each of them for a moment too long. This was as hard for her as it was for them—she’d fought so long to keep them fed and clothed, fought to teach them, fought to keep them safe. And now she was sending them off to her worst nightmare.

                Forks, Washington.

                Bella left first, but Beau couldn’t help looking back as they walked away—he’d always been a bit of a momma’s boy, and this was hurting him tremendously. As they passed through security and headed towards their gate, she could already see his fingers itching for his cell phone.

                It was a four-hour flight to Seattle and another hour in a smaller plane to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying wasn’t the hard part—the hour stuck in a car with Charlie was what worried her.

                Charlie had been really nice about the whole thing. He’d been hesitant at first because he’d already finalized the process of bringing his niece over from the UK to live with him, but once he’d agreed to figure things out he seemed genuinely pleased. It would be the first time his kids lived with him with any sort of permeance.

                He’d already gotten them registered for school and had even agreed to help them find a car.

                But it was sure to be awkward, anyways. None of them were what anyone could call verbose, and Bella didn’t know what they’d have to talk about anyways. He was more than a little confused about their decision—like their mother before her, Bella especially had never made a secret of her disdain for Forks.

                When they landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. It wasn’t an omen, just unavoidable.

                “Goody,” Beau sighed, offering her suitcase to her. “I thought I’d prepared myself.”

                “Me, too,” Bella pitched her voice low. “It wasn’t enough.”

                “Pretend you’re a duck,” Beau advised. “Perfect weather for a duck.”

                Bella shook her head with a wry grin, heading toward arrivals where Charlie was sure to be waiting. “Quack,” she joked, half-heartedly.

                They were both chuckling as they approached Charlie, who was waiting with the cruiser. This she’d been expecting, and was also the primary reason behind their motivation to buy a car. Despite their scarce funds, she refused to be paraded around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

                Charlie gave her a much warmer hug than she’d been expecting when she stumbled out of arrivals. Then he turned to Beau, clapping him on the shoulder and seeming to decide, fuck it, and pulled him into a hug as well.

                It was shocking and unexpected.

                “Good to see you, kids,” he said, smiling. He automatically steadied her when she stumbled putting her bag in his car. “You haven’t changed much. How’s Renee?”

                “Mom’s fine,” Bella said. At the same time, Beau responded, “It’s good to see you too, Dad.”

                They each only had a few bags. Most of their wardrobe was meant for the Arizona heat—much too permeable for Washington. Renee had helped them supplement their winter wardrobes, but it was still scanty. Even with two sets of belongings, it all fit easily into the cruiser.

                “I found a good car for you, really cheap,” Charlie announced as Bella strapped herself in. She had been delegated to the back this time, and Beau was already strapped in the front.

                “What kind of car?” Beau asked, sounding suspicious. Bella couldn’t help but agree—the ‘for you’ didn’t give her very high expectations.

                “Well, it’s a truck, actually. A Chevy,” Charlie explained.

                “Where’d you find it?” Bella asked, perhaps a bit sharper than intended. Beau sent her a look that said, ‘play nice’ and she reigned her annoyance in.

                “Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?” Charlie wondered, glancing up at her in the mirror. “He used to go fishing with us in the summer.”

                Beau was nodding thoughtfully, but Bella didn’t really remember—she did a good job of blocking out the unpleasant, unnecessary things from her memory.

                “Well he’s in a wheel chair now, so he can’t drive it. He offered to sell it to me real cheap.”

                “What year is it?” Beau asked. The look of suspicion was back.

                From the change of expression on Charlie’s face, he’d been hoping they wouldn’t ask. “Well, Billy’s done a lot of work on the engine—it’s only a few years old, really.”

                “When did he buy it?” Beau prompted again.

                “He bought it in ’84, I think.”

                “Did he buy it new?” her brother demanded.

                “Well…no. I think it was new in the early sixties—or late fifties, at the earliest,” he admitted sheepishly.

                “Ch—Dad. We don’t know anything about cars. Neither of us would be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and even with both of us we wouldn’t be able to afford a mechanic…” Bella hedged, sighing.

                “Really, Bells. The thing runs great. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.”

                _The Thing._ It had possibilities—as a nickname, at the very least.

                “How cheap is cheap?” she finally asked, defeated. She and Beau had a modest savings if they pooled their money together, but she didn’t want to spend a fortune on a car that was half a century old.

                “Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you guys. A homecoming gift.” Charlie peeked through the rearview mirror, looking hopeful.

                Wow. Free. You can’t beat that.

                “You didn’t have to do that, Dad,” Beau protested. “We were going to buy ourselves a car.”

                “I don’t mind. I want you to be happy here.” He was looking at the road as he spoke, but his voice was strong. She’d never heard him express his emotions so confidently—something Bella, if not Beau as well, had inherited from him.

                She looked straight ahead as she responded. “That’s really great, dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

                “Yeah, we do,” Beau hummed, looking out the passenger window.

                It was unspoken that they didn’t need to voice their opinions about Forks—how they would never be happy here. Charlie didn’t need to suffer with them.

                Besides, they’d never look a free truck in the mouth. (Or engine.)

                “Well, now, you’re welcome,” Charlie said sincerely. “You’re gonna love it.”

                They exchanged a few more pleasantries along the ride—mostly about the weather, which was wet. They all stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course—even Bella couldn’t deny it. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered in moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.

It was too green—an alien planet.

                It was Beau who remembered their cousin first, as they saw the first exit sign for Forks. He perked up a little, seeming both curious and disdained.

                “Heather didn’t come,” Beau commented idly. Charlie glanced up.

                “Oh, Hattie?” Charlie questioned, gruffly. “Yeah, she stayed back at the house to get ready for you—think she’s a bit nervous to be honest. I had her staying in your room Beau, didn’t want her out in the loft by herself.”

                Bella smiled at the thought that she was another of their family with a name they couldn’t stand—though at least _her_ name wasn’t as bad as Beaufort. She smirked in amusement at her brother’s misfortune.

                “She settled in alright?” Beau asked curiously. “She’s been here what, a month?”

                “Six weeks,” Charlie affirmed. “Yeah, she’s doin’ alright. She’s something else. I think it’ll do her good to have some company.”

                Bella (and unbeknownst to her, Beau) both tried to picture their cousin. She was a little younger—born the summer after them. Neither of them knew much about her, they hadn’t asked much. Charlie hadn’t given much information away either—only that she was an orphan who had lived with their other Aunt and cousin for most of her life.

                When Bella had questioned Renee about that side of the family, the woman had admitted she didn’t know much. She’d met Charlie’s sisters, Petunia and Lily, once. From how Renee told it, Lily was charming and confidant, though tired. Petunia was overly theatrical and manipulative, and it was clear Renee hadn’t liked her much. The sisters didn’t get along and couldn’t be left alone together.

                It was no wonder Hattie wanted to get away from that.

                Eventually they made it to Charlie’s. He still lived in the same small, two-story house he’d bought with Renee in the early days of their marriage. (Those were the only days their marriage had, the early ones.)

                There, parked on the street in front of the house, was their new (new-to-them) truck. It was faded red, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To her immense surprise, she _loved_ it.

                If Beau’s reaction was any indication, he was pretty fond of it as well.

                She could see them in it. It was one of those old, solid iron affairs that never get damaged. The kind you see at the scene of an accident, intact, surrounded by the pieces of a foreign car it had destroyed.

                “Wow, dad,” Beau gasped.

                “I love it!” Bella agreed.

                Now tomorrow wouldn’t be as horrific as they’d expected. They wouldn’t be faced with the choice of walking two miles in the rain or accepting a ride in the cruiser.

                Though—she could see a shiny blue hatchback parked further up the driveway, presumably Hattie’s car. They probably wouldn’t have had to walk.

                “Alright, let’s head in,” Charlie said, motioning to the rain, which was picking up again. “Bells, do you want to come in or take your stuff up to the loft and settle in? I think Hattie’s in the house if you want to meet her.”

                Beau was unloading his bags and paused to glance at her. She shrugged.

                “I think I’m going to take my stuff up to the loft,” she told Charlie. “I’ll come in in a bit.”

                “Do you need help?” Charlie asked concernedly. Before she could say no, he was already pulling her stuff out. “Go on in, Beau. Hattie’s in there.”

                Beau sent Bella a look that screamed ‘help me’, but there was nothing to be done—they parted ways.

                Charlie and Bella managed to take her things up in one trip between the two of them. The loft was actually really nice—Hattie must’ve sprayed some air freshener because, though there was the smell of fresh paint, it was covered up by a slightly sweet, flowery smell.

                Hattie had the far room and the door was slightly ajar. She had a shelf for shoes outside her door and it was filled with a multitude of cute shoes. On the coat rack inside the entrance was a puffy winter coat, scarf, and umbrella, with room for Bella’s things as well. There was a key rack and her cousin’s keys were hung there.

                Bella wasted little time shedding her shoes and parka onto the rack, hanging her keys up, and entered the closer room.

                Both were westward facing, looking out over the front yard. It was a small room, but cozy, with a plush bed, a bookshelf, a desk, and a dresser. There was a small built in closet on one side of the room.

                “Hattie tried to tidy up,” Charlie said, indicating his shoes. He was standing on the welcome mat before Bella’s bedroom with his muddy shoes still on. Bella noticed that the carpet had been freshly vacuumed and felt a little fond of her cousin. “She made up your bed and everything.”

                He placed her bags inside the room and leaned on the door, hesitating as she began putting things away. This was unlike him—Charlie wasn’t one to hover.

                Bella continued stacking things in their respective places as she prompted him, “Dad?”

                Charlie cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry, you probably want to be left alone. I just thought…it’d be really nice if you and Hattie could be friends.”

                She lowered her stack of novels back into the suitcase, looking at him curiously. “Okay…Dad, what’s going on?”

                Her dad scuffed his shoe on the welcome mat. “I don’t know myself, really,” he admitted. “I just think she could use a girl her age. I don’t think she’s had much of a childhood.”

                Bella started putting things together in her head: why a sixteen-year-old girl would suddenly make the choice to move across the ocean to live with a single man she’d never met. Why her dad had been much better at expressing his emotions than the last time she’d saw him.

                “Of course, dad,” she told him. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

                He let her finish unpacking, even taking her stuff to the bathroom she’d share with Hattie, before he walked her back to the house.

—x—

                Beau used the key hidden in the eaves to let himself into the house. He set his bags inside the door before going back for the last one, then entered fully, shutting the door behind him.

                The house looked cleaner than the last time he’d been here, a little more loved. It smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg. The lights were off, but he could hear the TV in the background, so he flipped one on, calling out questioningly.

                “Hattie?”

                The TV abruptly turned off and after a moment a petite girl arrived around the corner. She was smaller than Bella by a good few inches, with long black hair and big green eyes. She looked delicate, unsure, but something about the way she held her shoulders was…confident?

                Unsure, but confident?

                There was a strength hidden in her posture that didn’t quite align with her delicate looks. Still, he smiled, a little unsure himself.

                “Ah, hi—I’m Beau.”

                A tiny grin stole across her face. “Hi, Beau,” she said his name like it was new to her—with a groan he realized she probably had only known him as Beaufort.

                (Hypocritical, as he’d thought she went by Heather.)

                “It’s nice to meet you,” his cousin continued, stepping forward. “Can I help you with your bags?”

                “Oh, uh—” he was going to tell her he could get it. After all, she was probably a foot shorter than him, and he felt weird making her help him when he should’ve been able to do it himself. But he’d barely gotten his stutter out before she was taking his backpack from him, and one of the other bags.

                Then she was on the stairs, smiling as she marched up them.

                Beau hurriedly grabbed the last couple of bags and followed her up, bewildered.

                His room faced out over the lawn, and it was very familiar to him. It smelled lightly feminine—probably due to his cousin having been staying here—but it was clean, the bed done up. This room had belonged to him and Bella since they’d been born.

                The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window—these were all a part of his childhood. The only changes Charlie had made through the years were switching out the cribs and adding a desk as they grew. The desk held an ancient computer, a few ethernet cables poking out.

                Not quite Wi-Fi, but better than the last time Beau had been in the room—when it had been phone lines stapled along the wall.

                Even the rocking chair from his childhood still stood in the corner.

                Hattie perched on the corner of the bed as Beau unpacked, a silent but not entirely unwelcome presence. He didn’t know what to say to her and clearly, she didn’t know what to say to him, but the silence was comfortable enough.

                It was nice not to be alone, and even though he didn’t know her, he felt he didn’t have to pretend to smile or look pleased. He was of a different frame of mind than his sister—being in Forks wasn’t the worst thing to happen to him. Sure, he preferred Phoenix, and he loathed being away from his mother, but he could make Forks work.

                “I made some dinner, if you’re hungry,” Hattie said quietly as Beau finished up. “I know I was when I got here.”

                Beau tried not to look surprised, but agreed to this. “No wonder Charlie likes you, you feed him.”

                Hattie laughed delicately and they trailed back down the stairs. She led him into the kitchen and brought out some food, just some chicken and mashed potatoes. Comfort food.

                She dished it up for him, no-doubt used to caring for Charlie by now, and sat across from him with a small serving for herself. “I’ve already eaten,” she assured him.

                “So, you go to the high school already?” Beau asked. She didn’t necessarily look like a child, but she was small enough she could probably fit in at the middle school.

                “Yeah, it’s alright,” Hattie told him. “It was strange at first. I had to jump through some hoops because my transcripts are weird.”

                “Because you’re from the UK?” he wondered. She had a pretty posh accent, but he didn’t comment on it—she probably heard about it a lot, all things considered.

                “Because I’m from the UK,” the girl agreed. “It’s not too bad. Everyone there looks at me like I’m a brand-new toy though, so I feel a bit like an object.”

                “Well lucky for you there’s two new kids starting tomorrow,” Beau grinned cheekily. He heard the door open in the background and felt relieved, for some reason, that Hattie was there to act as a buffer with Charlie.

                “Hattie?” Charlie’s voice called—some things never change. “Beau?”

                “In the kitchen,” Beau called back. Their vocal range was pretty similar, he noted idly.

                Bella and Charlie entered, Charlie ruffling up Hattie’s hair and telling her to sit back down when she tried to get up and make him a plate.

                Bella’s eyes roamed Hattie’s form curiously. Now that they were seated together Beau could tell that Hattie was about four inches shorter than his sister.

                “Hey,” Bella greeted Hattie. “I’m Bella.”

                “That’s a pretty name,” Hattie informed her. “I’m Hattie.”

                “Oh…uh, thanks,” Bella said awkwardly.

                “Isn’t it funny that you all go by nicknames?” Charlie asked, plopping down with his food. He passed a plate to Bella as well.

                Beau snorted. “If your name was _Beaufort_ you’d go by a nickname too.”

                “It could be worse; our other cousin is called Dudley. The only nickname for that is Dud, which might just be worse.” Hattie informed him cheerily.

                “Oh, I forgot we had another cousin,” Bella said. “What’s he like?”

                And just like that, all of the warmth went out of Hattie’s eyes. She was quiet for a beat too long.

                “Hattie?” Charlie prompted. “You okay?”

                She snapped out of her thoughts, smiling a plastic-looking smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Dudley’s Dudley. Hard to explain.”

                The Swans all nodded, but Beau noticed Charlie looked troubled. He shared a look with Bella, like, ‘what is that all about?’

—x—

                Dinner was much better than Bella could have hoped. Hattie was a good buffer for the Swan awkwardness, so there was a little more chatter than there would’ve been otherwise. It was a good distraction from her woes.

                All too soon, though, the group was heading their separate ways—it was getting late and they all had responsibilities in the morning. Beau headed up to shower before bed, and Bella and Hattie took the three-step walk from the house to the garage.

                “Do you want to shower?” Bella asked, motioning their shared bathroom. It’d be weird getting used to a new person’s schedule, but it couldn’t be as bad as sharing with Renee.

                “No, I’ll shower in the morning,” Hattie smiled delicately. “Have a good night, Bella.”

                Washing off the day’s travels felt like heaven to Bella. The steam worked at the tenseness of her muscles and she could almost forget she was in Forks, if just for that moment.

                Standing before the mirror brushing her hair out, Bella allowed herself to throw a tiny pity party. She would never fit in in Forks. She would be the new girl from a big city, a curiosity, a freak. Maybe if she looked like a girl from Phoenix should, it would be different. But physically she’d never fit in anywhere.

                She should be tan, sporty, blond—a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps—all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun. Instead, she was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. She’d always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete. She didn’t have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating herself—and harming anybody who stood nearby.

                It wasn’t just physically that she’d never fit in. She didn’t relate well to people her age. Maybe the truth was that she didn’t relate well to people, period. Even Beau, her twin, who she was closer to than anyone on the planet, was never in harmony with her. Never exactly on the same page. Sometimes she wondered if she was seeing the same things through her eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs.

                Maybe there was a glitch in her brain.

                But the cause didn’t matter. All that mattered was the effect.

                And tomorrow was the beginning.

                Even after she was done crying for the night—trying to be quiet, not to disturb Hattie—Bella had a hard time sleeping. The constant whooshing of the rain and the wind across the roof wouldn’t fade into the background. Even with her pillow over her head, she didn’t fall asleep until almost midnight, when the rain quieted into a drizzle.

                The thick fog was all she could see out the window in the morning, and she felt claustrophobia creeping up on her. You could never see the sky here—it was like a cage.

                As she was finished getting dressed, there was a knock on her door. Bella hefted her bag onto her shoulder, heading toward the noise.

                Hattie stood on the other side and Bella had to swallow down her insecurities. The girl was not so dissimilar to Bella. Pale skin, but flushed with a happy warmth Bella’s would never have, and it didn’t have the same papery translucence that Bella’s had. And she was tiny, lithe, and thin, but the set of her shoulders showed there was very little softness about her.

                “Wow, you look—nice,” Bella stuttered, feeling self-conscious. Hattie had a nice pair of leggings on, and a long blouse and cardigan. There was a headband tied messily into her hair. Even in comfortable clothes, Hattie looked cute. On the other hand, Bella was wearing worn jeans and a brown t-shirt and converse.

                “Hm?” Hattie asked, looking down at herself. “Oh…thanks. It’s nothing special really.”

                Her cousin moved out of the way, letting Bella come out and grab her jacket, umbrella and car keys. “Did you need something? You knocked.”

                “Oh!” Hattie was collecting her own things. “I was just seeing if you wanted to go down together.”

                Bella nodded, appreciating that Hattie seemed to have some sixth sense that neither Beau or herself were super comfortable with Charlie. They headed into the kitchen, where Beau looked half-dead eating his cereal.

                “Mornin’, girls,” Charlie called, clomping down the stairs. “Mornin’ Beau.”

                The trio all greeted him with varying states of chipperness as they moved around each other in the kitchen. Bella sat and poured herself a bowl of cereal. Vaguely she noted Charlie and Hattie chatting, and Beau nodding off to sleep and nearly falling into his cheerios, but she was focused on the kitchen.

                It was like being frozen in time, to be honest. Sitting at the old oak table in the four mismatched chairs. The only thing that had changed were the people sitting in the kitchen. The dark-paneled walls, cheery yellow cabinets and white linoleum floors were all the same. Renee had painted those cabinets eighteen years ago in a failed attempt to bring some sunshine into the house.

                Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. A wedding picture of Charlie and Renee in Las Vegas, then one of the four of them in the hospital the day Bella and Beau were born, taken by a helpful nurse. A procession of school pictures followed. There was even one of Hattie and Charlie on the ocean, in a boat. Charlie was standing behind Hattie holding a giant fish up, looking proud.

                It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize Charlie had never gotten over her mom. It made her uncomfortable.

                “Are you ready?” Bella asked Beau. She didn’t want to be too early to school, but she couldn’t stay in the house anymore.

                “Oh, uh, sure.”

                They rinsed out their bowls and were headed toward the door and Beau stopped, frowning.

                “Don’t you think it’s weird to take two separate cars if we’re all going the same place?”

                Bella could concede to this, and headed back toward the kitchen. Hattie was zipping her coat up, looking content.

                “Hey, Hattie. Did you want to carpool to school?” she called to her cousin, who jerked her head up in surprise. There was warmth in the girl’s eyes, like she wasn’t used to having people think about her.

                “Oh, sure,” Hattie said. “It is kind of silly to waste gas when we’re all going the same place.”

                The trio headed out the door. It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak her immediately as she locked the house up. The sloshing of her new waterproof boots, combined with those of her cousin and brother, was unnerving. She missed the crunch of gravel under her feet as she walked.

                She paused and admired her truck longingly for one heartbeat, but it wouldn’t fit the three of them comfortably—so they decided to take Hattie’s car.

                It was a nice car. Beau was commenting on it from the front seat as Hattie started the car up and it purred.

                “It is nice. Uncle Charlie’s friend, Mr. Newton, helped me find it when I got my license,” Hattie said cheerfully. “I love it.”

                The pair of them chatted idly and the radio played quietly in the background. Bella was watching out the window, pitying herself, as they headed toward the highway.

                Forks High School, like most other things, was right off the highway—and at first it wasn’t obvious it was a school. Only the school sign gave it away. It looked like a collection of matching houses built with maroon-colored bricks.

                There were so many trees and shrubs she couldn’t see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? Where were the chain link fences, the metal detectors?

                Hattie parked them in front of the office building first. “You’ll need to get your schedules,” she said cheerfully. The car was toasty and Bella didn’t really want to get out, especially given it was drizzling, but Beau was already exiting.

                Well—here goes nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is--the first 5 chapters! Let me know what you think :) 
> 
> * Let me say this work is NOWHERE near complete. Even with the 32 chapters I have written, we are very far from the end. As I write more I will update the chapter count.
> 
> * If you like this work, let me know! :) I know it's not for everybody. I wasn't planning on posting it (hence why there are 32 chapters of 150,000 words and I'm just now posting) but I decided "Why not?" 
> 
> * As time goes on more mysteries surrounding the Wizarding World will be brought up. This includes Hattie and why she is Hattie, the regime, and the crazy AU I've written into the HP world.
> 
> Thank you for reading, lovelies <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Bella and Beau's first day of school!  
> \- Follows along with Twilight chapter 1  
> \- Breaking The Rules™: In this universe, vampires can eat food.

_But I guess what you really want to know are the things you can't ask. ―[Meg Rosoff](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/93575.Meg_Rosoff)_

══════

                Inside the office was brightly lit, and warmer than he’d hoped. It was small: a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn’t enough greenery outside—but he kind of liked it.

                The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses.

                The red-haired woman looked up. “Can I help you?”

                “We’re the Swans,” Beau called, motioning half-heartedly to Bella. Awareness lit in her eyes.

                They were expected—a topic of gossip, no doubt. Children of the chief’s flighty ex-wife, come home at last, he thought bitterly.

                “Of course,” she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk until she found the right ones. “I have your schedules here, and a map of the school—but you have Hattie, so you probably won’t need it.”

                She gave them each a pink slip of paper to be signed by all their teachers, which they had to return at the end of the day. Then she wished them good luck.

                 Bella smiled, actually looking somewhat convincing.

                When they went back to Hattie’s car she was preoccupied with her cellphone, texting rapidly on it. She was smiling in the kind of way that made your cheeks ache.

                “Hey,” he told her, settling back in. “You look happy.”

                She blushed at him and didn’t respond, which didn’t leave much up to the imagination. He figured it must be a boy.

                Other students were beginning to arrive now—Hattie drove around the school, following the line of traffic. Beau was sort of glad to see that most of the cars in the lot were older, like their truck. Nothing flashy. Even Hattie’s wasn’t super flashy.

                At home, they’d lived in a lower-income neighborhood that was included in the Paradise Valley District. It was common to see a Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot.

                Here, the nicest car was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out.

                “What do you have first?” Bella asked from the back seat as the found a parking spot. Hattie cut the engine and glanced over curiously as Beau’s schedule.

                “Wow, Beau—looks like you can stick with me today. Except for fifth period, our classes are the same.”

                Beau nodded, feeling sort of relieved he wouldn’t have to go it alone, and handed his schedule back to Bella.

                “Looks like we all have English together,” Bella noted, gathering her bag. “And P.E.”

                “Ugh, P.E.,” Beau groaned, only half-joking.

                Now that he knew he wouldn’t be alone the whole day, Beau was feeling much better about the situation. (He could see by Bella’s face that she, however, was not.) As they all headed into the building, people greeted Hattie but mostly she kept her head down.

                They followed a pair of unisex raincoats into a building marked with a large, black “3”, stopping inside the door to hang up their coats. The classroom was small and most of the desks were already filled with teens. Almost everyone was just as pale as he and Bella, which was somewhat of a relief—they wouldn’t stand out here.

                Mr. Mason, a tall, balding teacher, gawked at them when he realized who they were. Bella flushed tomato red, but Beau just brushed it off—it was something he’d have to get used to eventually. Mr. Mason sent them to the only remaining empty desks without introducing them to the class.

                Hattie was sat smack dab in the middle of the room, but Beau and Bella were on opposites sides in the back. This suited Beau fine…it was harder for people to stare at him when he was in the last row.

                The reading list was fairly basic, and he knew Bella had read everything on it. He was missing one or two, ones that weren’t required reading back home—he didn’t dislike reading, just preferred more modern stuff.

                When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, Beau picked up his bag to go find Hattie. When he turned to wave at Bella, he noticed a gangly boy with skin problems and hair as black as an oil slick had leaned over the aisle to accost her.

                Beau could hear him, even as he made it across the room to where Hattie was still packing up.

                “You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?”

                “Bella,” his sister corrected.

                “Where’s your next class?”

                Hattie glanced up when Beau stood next to her, grinning slyly. Beau did not like that look one bit—it was way too mischievous.

                “What?” Beau asked suspiciously.

                “Eric alert,” Hattie whispered happily, nodding toward Bella. “I feel bad, but at least he’s leaving me alone now.”

                Beau looked back up at the boy, who reminded him of someone who’d be in a chess club. He was still nattering on at Bella, who looked ticked, but not ticked enough to send him away.

                “Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Beau chuckled. “Where to?”

                Hattie led him to US History, chatting about how she hated the teacher and the subject. She added that at least her one real friend at the school was in it with her—and now, Beau.

                They met up with said friend, a tall girl named Angela, whose cuteness flustered Beau a little bit. The three of them all sat together in US History after Mrs. Mackerel forced him to introduce himself to the class…but at least they knew he preferred to go by Beau.

                Then they had art, which was looking to be the proverbial sunshine in his cloudy day.

                Beau was an artist. Always had been. Bella had her books, Beau had his paints.

                Hattie obviously disliked art, the frustrated way she mixed her paint made him laugh. At the end, when they were supposed to have realistically painted the given sunflowers, he had a passable attempt for only an hour’s work.

                Hers looked like a pile of bananas.

                Ms. Coal praised him, and didn’t exactly tell Hattie off—but her lack of comment told them everything they needed to know.

                The duo left the room laughing about Hattie’s atrocious painting.

—x—

                After two classes, Bella started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask her questions about how she was liking Forks. She tried to be diplomatic, but mostly she just lied a lot.

                At least she never needed the map. She begrudged her brother for having Hattie, and wondered how he was faring.

                One girl sat next to Bella in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked her to the cafeteria for lunch. Bella had never been so excited for lunch at a high school—she just wanted to be reunited with someone she was comfortable being around.

                They sat at a table with several of her friends, who she introduced Bella to. (Bella promptly forgot all their names as soon as they were spoken.) The boy from English, Eric, waved at her from across the table.

                It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that she first saw them.

                They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where Bella was sitting as possible. There were six of them. They weren’t talking, and they weren’t really eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They also weren’t gawking at her like most everyone else was, so she found it safe to stare at them.

                But it was none of those things that caught, and held, her attention.

                They didn’t look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big—muscled like a serious weight lifter with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college.

                The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of Sports Illustrated, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. The second was small, but not as small as the last—built like a dancer, not unlike Hattie. She had thick bronze hair and a timeless beauty, like she could have just stepped out of any era known to man. The last was shorter still, pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was deep black, cropped short, pointing in every direction.

                And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than Bella, paler than Hattie. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes—purplish, bruise-like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.

                She couldn’t look away—their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see, except maybe airbrushed onto a magazine, or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful—perhaps the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.

                They were all looking away—away from each other, away from the other students. Away from anything in particular, really. Occasionally, one of them would take a bite of food, chew slowly, swallow. As Bella watched, the smallest girl rose with her tray—quick, graceful, like a tiny ballerina—and loped away. Her gait was one you would expect to see on a runway.

                “Who are they?” Bella asked quietly to the girl from her Spanish class.

                She didn’t even look up to see who Bella was talking about, but even so, it was obvious she knew. As she opened her mouth to begin speaking, the thinner one, the boyish one, glanced up at her. He looked at her for a fraction of a second, perhaps, and then his eyes flickered to Bella.

                He looked away quickly—more quickly than Bella could have, though she still dropped her eyes guiltily in a flush of embarrassment. In that briefest flash of a glimpse, his face had held nothing of interest—it was as if she had called his name and he looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

                Bella’s neighbor giggled a little bit, side-eyeing Bella. “That’s Edward, Emmett, and Edythe Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife,” she said, under her breath.

                Bella glanced back at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking apart his bagel with long, pale fingers. Every once in a while, he’d deposit a piece in his mouth, but it looked forced. Otherwise his mouth was moving very quickly, perfect lips barely opening. The others were all looking away still, but it seemed as if he were speaking quietly to them.

                She thought their names were strange, unpopular—the kind of names grandparents have. But maybe that was normal here, small town names?

                Bella finally remembered her neighbor was called Jessica—a very common name.

                “They are very…nice-looking,” Bella said, severely understating her point.

                “Yes!” Jessica giggled. “They’re all together, though. Emmett and Rosalie and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together.” Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of a small town.

                “Which ones are the Cullens?” Bella asked. “They don’t look related.”

                As she was asking it, Beau and Hattie finally showed up. Hattie plopped down looking disapproving.

                “Are you gossiping about the Cullens again?” she asked Jessica, who snapped her mouth closed guiltily. Hattie turned to Bella and frowned. “Jasper and Rosalie are the blonds. They’re Mrs. Cullen’s niece and nephew. Edward and Edythe are the bronze-haired twins.”

                Bella picked at her food as her brother and cousin began eating. She was still curious and wondered what Hattie’s problem with Jessica was.

                “I think it’s really kind nice that the Cullens take care of so many kids, when they’re so young and all,” she commented idly.

                Jessica was slow to agree, almost reluctant. It seemed like she didn’t like the doctor and his wife very much—with the envious glances she was throwing at their adopted children, Bella’s best guess was jealousy. “I think that Mrs. Cullen can’t have any kids though,” she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

                Bella was shocked, but she was even more shocked when Hattie slammed her lunch bag onto the table and looked at Jessica with ferocity.

                “How insensitive are you?” Hattie demanded. “It doesn’t matter why or how the Cullens were taken in. You sit here and gossip like you know their story, but I’ve never seen one of you try to talk to them. You just call them weird and talk behind their backs.”

                Jessica looked properly chastised. Though Hattie’s voice had been low, the boyish Cullen—Edward, Bella knew now—glanced up. He met Bella’s gaze with open curiosity. As she looked quickly away, it seemed like his glance held an unmet expectation.

                Peeking at him from the corner of her eye whilst Hattie steamed and Jessica moped, Bella realized he was still staring. Not gawking, like the other students—his expression was frustrated.

—x—

                Hattie and Bella walked to Biology II together, leaving Beau to find his own way to Chemistry. Hattie still seemed to be in a mood, which Bella didn’t push her on, though she was trying to make the connection. It didn’t seem like Hattie was friends with the Cullens, yet she—what? Sympathized with them?

                They parted ways at the door, Hattie going to sit at her lab table. She already had a lab partner—a shy girl Bella had met during lunch, called Angela. In fact, every table was full except for one.

                Near the center aisle, Bella recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair color, sitting next to the single open seat.

                As Bella walked down the aisle to introduce herself and have her slip signed by the teacher, she watched him surreptitiously. Just as she passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at her, meeting her eyes with the strangest expression—it was hostile, furious. She looked away quickly, shocked, blushing again.

                She stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch herself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.

                His eyes. She’d noticed his eyes—they’d been black. Coal black.

                Of course Mr. Banner had no choice but to send her to the sole open seat, and of course it was next to Edward. She kept her eyes down as she went to take her seat, bewildered by his antagonistic stare.

                She could see his posture change from the corner of her eye as she sat. He was leaning away from her, sitting at the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face as if he smelled something terrible. Inconspicuously, Bella sniffed her hair, but it smelled fine—like her strawberry shampoo.

                During the whole lecture, never once did Edward relax his position. He stayed tensed, hand clenched into a fist, his tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and she was surprised that he was not nearly as slight as he’d looked next to his burly brothers.

                The class seemed to drag on longer than any of the others had—perhaps because she’d already had this particular lecture, or perhaps because she was waiting for him to relax. He never did. He continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn’t breathing.

                It couldn’t have anything to do with her, right? He didn’t know her from Eve.

                She made the mistake of peeking up at him again—he was glaring at her, his black eyes full of revulsion. She flinched away, shrinking against her chair. _If looks could kill,_ she thought.

                The moment the bell rang, startling Bella, Edward was up and out of his chair. He rose fluidly from his chair—he was much taller than she’d imagined—and was out of the door before anyone else had even left their seat.

                She was frozen in her seat, staring blankly after him. He’d been so rude—it wasn’t fair. She gathered up her things slowly, trying to block the anger the filled her, for fear her eyes would tear up.

                “Bella?” Hattie’s voice broke through her anger, and she turned, looking wild-eyed. Hattie seemed concerned. “What was all that about?”

                “I have no idea,” Bella muttered, trying not to let her anger get to her still.

                “I’ve never seen him act like that…” Hattie said, almost to herself. “It was almost as if he was in pain.”

                They were headed toward the gym by this point, and Hattie was still looking troubled.

                “I don’t—smell bad, do I?” Bella asked, hesitatingly. Hattie gave a startled laugh. “Well I just thought I’d ask!”

                Once they got to the gym, Hattie left to change. Beau met up with them, looking dazed or possibly star-struck—Bella didn’t tell him about Edward. Likewise, he didn’t tell her about whatever had him in a mood.

                Coach Clapp found them uniforms but didn’t make them dress down. Bella was grateful for this small mercy.

                They were watching four games of volleyball being played simultaneously. Bella cringed as she remembered all the injuries she had sustained…and inflicted…playing volleyball. Hattie seemed to be having a blast, though. She was playing hard, moving with a graceful proficiency that reminded Bella of a hunting cat. Beau was watching wide-eyed as well as their cousin dived to save a ball from hitting the ground, going down onto one knee—nearly going onto her stomach.

                “Are you sure she’s related to us?” Beau asked, as the final bell rang. “That _was_ the same girl from last night, right?”

                As she left for the locker rooms, Hattie waved them off to go to the main office so they could have their papers signed. Bella walked slowly, letting the chill of the wind refresh her after her long day.

                When she walked into the office, Beau right behind her, she nearly turned around and left again.

                Edward was there. She recognized the tousled bronze hair—he didn’t seem to hear them come in, too busy arguing with the receptionist.

                Listening to his low, attractive voice, Bella could make out the gist of his argument. He wanted to trade from fifth hour biology to another time…any other time.

                She just couldn’t believe it was about her. It had to be something else, something that happened before they came into the biology room—maybe Hattie was right, and he was in pain. The look on his face must’ve been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible for a stranger to take on such a sudden, intense dislike toward another person.

                The door opened again, the cold wind gusting through the room. It blew Bella’s hair about her face. The girl who came in simply stepped up to the desk, placed a small note in one of the wire baskets, and departed again. But Edward Cullen’s back suddenly stiffened, and he turned, slowly, to glare at Bella.

                His face was absurdly handsome, with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, she felt the thrill of fear, raising the hair on her arms. The look only lasted a second, and then his eyes flashed to Beau with much less hate.

                He turned back to the receptionist.

                “Never mind, then,” he said hastily, in a voice like velvet. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you for your help.” And he turned without another look to the Swans and disappeared out the door.

                When Bella and Beau got back to Hattie’s car—she was waiting for them in front of the office now—Beau turned on Bella.

                “What was that about?” he demanded, motioning to the office. “Why did he glare at you like that?”

                “I don’t know!” Bella crossed her arms against the wind. “He was very rude to me in biology and now this. I really don’t know, Beau. Maybe this is how he acts.”

                They loaded into the car, where Hattie was once again texting her friend. She seemed to realize something was off, because the entire drive home she refrained from her usual cheerful chatter.

                Bella appreciated this. She fought off tears the entire way home, and feigned tiredness once there as an excuse to retire to her bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an extra chapter because the last one was pretty short :)  
> \- Follows the first 1/3 of Twilight: 2  
> \- We learn about some characters here who are important to explaining Hattie's backstory, why she is the way she is, how the Wizarding World in this AU is, etc.

_“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.” ―[ Lois Lowry](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2493.Lois_Lowry)_

═════

                Hattie puttered about in the kitchen that afternoon, debating what to make for dinner. Bella had escaped to the loft nearly as soon as the trio pulled into the driveway, looking frustrated and near tears. She’d radiated with ill-concealed anger.

                Beau, too, had retired to his room. He’d been looking a little dazed ever since fifth period, and when they parted in the doorway, his excuse was homework. Hattie could hear him banging around up there and tried to imagine what he was doing.

                With a sigh, the slight girl decided to make a chili. Once she had the pot on to simmer, she retired to the table and spread out her own homework.

                Hattie’s strategy was to go from least enjoyable to most enjoyable—that way she couldn’t put off the least-liked subjects. As such, she started with US History, filling out a work sheet about some war that was, honestly, inconsequential to her.

                She was scratching out equations for her Algebra homework, idly using her magic to stir to chili, when she felt it. The light brush of her Professor’s magic, a slight weight deposited into her pocket.

                Hattie had first contacted him only a week into her stay in Forks. Since then she’d written him several shorter notes, becoming increasingly worried when he didn’t respond. She’d even risked sending him her phone number, not that she had any pretenses he’d use it.

                This was the first time in six weeks he’d written, bar the present he’d sent her for Christmas. She was a little sore about it, essentially cut off from her world until he got back to her.

                That didn’t stop Hattie from dropping her pen and digging into her pocket eagerly. It amazed her how good Severus Snape was at locating her (in the past she’d wondered if he didn’t use a tracking charm). Banishing a note to someone required precise skill, especially over such long distances—he had somehow managed to get it into her pocket.

                He was an amazing man.

                An irritating, cold, snarky, sarcastic git, but amazing.

                The note was on parchment, folded into quarters, her name hastily scratched across the front in his elegant scrawl.

                _Hattie—_

_I dread to think what your insufferable mind has been wondering at my silence. Though we have been exceedingly busy, I am sure you’ve thought of a hundred different explanations as to why I have not written._

_The answer is simply time._

_I am glad that your new home is finding you well. However, it’s for the best you do not write too often, lest the letters run astray._

_I am as well as always. Busier now that you are gone. Our acquaintances have redoubled their efforts and we are slowly chipping away at the regime. Amos Diggory infiltrated the Ministry and lost his life for it, but it has afforded us much needed information._

_I have been recruiting. Though McGonagall wishes me to take on new students, now that my focus is not solely on your education, I find I cannot. I have other responsibilities now._

_As for the magical districts, I believe there may be one in Seattle, and a few dotted throughout California. You’ll know when you’ve found one. Most are equipped with muggle repelling wards, so look for those._

_Be careful with the Quileute. I know you are set on this path, but some cultures are very protective of their secrets. Perhaps you can find more information in Seattle._

_I will be sending along some letters your friends have entrusted to me. Correspondence is not the easiest at this time, so be forewarned that not everyone is represented._

_Should you find your business in Forks finishes early, stay put until I call upon you. You are far safer there than you ever were here._

_As always, be diligent. I will contact you if anything changes._

_Merry part,_

_Severus_

                A teardrop splashed onto the parchment. It was the only sign Hattie had been crying—a few more followed it, making some of the words run.

                She’d been so cut off from everyone she’d ever known. Hattie hadn’t realized how isolated she’d felt until Professor’s letter. Sure, Charlie was great, but there were some things she would never be allowed to tell him. It made her feel very alone.

                A small stack of envelopes, neatly tied together with string, appeared atop Professor’s letter. It was a clever charm: instead of assuming there would be a place to banish them too, Professor used his letter’s location, once delivered, as a sort of guide.

                It took her a moment, her shaking hands reaching for the stack of letters, to hear Beau’s footsteps on the stairs. Panic settled in, catching in her throat—Hattie threw a hand out toward the pot on the stove. With a choppy, aborting gesture, she stopped the magic from stirring the pot. _Be diligent,_ she thought sarcastically.

                Just in time, Beau came around the corner. “Hattie?” he called. Then, when he saw her face: “What’s wrong?”

                Hattie gasped softly, dashing her tears away with her sleeves. “I just got some letters from…home,” she explained to him. “I haven’t heard from them in a while.”

                Her cousin’s eyes softened. He folded himself into the chair across from her, setting his own schoolbooks down—he must’ve decided to come join her instead of locking himself away.

                “Do you miss them?” Beau asked. There was a searching look in his blue eyes. “Your family?”

                Hattie laid her hands over the letters, wondering what she should tell him. How do you explain her situation to someone who had come from two loving, if separate, homes?

                She didn’t miss the Dursleys. She missed Professor, even if he wasn’t what she wanted him to be. She missed the certainty she’d had with him by her side…he would always do what was best for her, even if she didn’t necessarily like it. She missed her network of allies, the friends who she’d grown up alongside, the ones who’d raised her, the ones she’d learned with. Those people were her true family—the family she’d made for herself.

                The Dursleys would always leave a little ache in her heart. The what-ifs, the thought of what could have been. But there was no love lost—it’d been too little, too late by the time Hattie left.

                Running her fingers over the letters, Hattie said with certainty, “None of these letters are from my family.”

                A look of clear realization flashed over Beau’s face. “You don’t like them.”

                Hattie tched, shaking her head sadly. “They don’t like me.”

                He watched her get up, heading to stir the chili manually this time. His eyes felt like a heavy weight on her back, and though he didn’t prompt her to continue further, she did.

                “They never liked me. My mum…Lily…she and our Aunt Petunia never got along. When my parents died, Aunt Petunia took me in out of obligation. But I was a burden on them, and I think I reminded our aunt of her sister too much.”

                “You were a child,” Beau pointed out. “That wasn’t your fault.”

                “No,” Hattie agreed. “I’m not making excuses. Just explaining.”

                “You were unhappy. Why did you wait so long to come live with Charlie?” Beau wondered, put off. Hattie could see that he was angered by what she’d told him, and he didn’t even know the half of it.

                “I didn’t know Uncle Charlie existed,” Hattie explained. This was the truth, but it was only half the story. “Even if I had…I was unhappy, but I fit where I was. The Dursleys didn’t want me, but I spent most of my time in school or with my Professor. It was an arduous existence, but I was content.”

                She sat back down at the table, clearing away her letters to look at in private. She could see Beau’s gaze directed at Professor’s open letter, trying to get a desperate peek in at her life before them. She folded it, purposefully, and placed it below the others.

                “Then, if you were content, why did you come here?” Beau murmured. His textbook was opened, but discarded—he stared at her so intensely that, if he were magical, she’d probably feel the effect of it.

                Hattie smiled. “Professor was a friend of my mother’s. He tutored me in subjects I wouldn’t otherwise have learned—when my education with him came to an end, he told me about Uncle Charlie. He had no more to offer me education-wise, but Professor knew that there were people here in the states that I could continue learning from. When I learned of Uncle Charlie, my mind was made up—I wanted to get to know him, and I wanted to further my education.”

—x—

                Dinner that night was a pretty quiet affair. Bella was sulking and Hattie, too, was in her own little world. Beau wondered if she was thinking about her letters, which she still hadn’t opened.

                Beau seemed like he was the only one with any energy—though his day had started out miserable and dreary, when he parted ways with the girls it started looking up. In Chemistry he had met one of the Cullens that Bella and Hattie discussed at lunch, _Edythe._

                She was a literal goddess, petite and perfect. His eyes had been drawn to her from the moment she slipped into the room until the second she left. But what had really dazed him was that she seemed interested in him, too: her eyes kept glancing over at him, looking curious and intrigued, if not a bit frustrated. But she didn’t approach him, didn’t sit near him…didn’t even smile or wave at him.

                There were definitely mixed signals.

                They all parted that night for their own beds, each one just as excited as the next to find themselves blissfully asleep.

                When Beau came down in the morning, after sleeping like a rock through the night, Hattie was already in the kitchen. He was feeling much more awake today, ruffling his still drying curls.

                Hattie made them breakfast. Eventually Bella came in in time to snag a bit of food, looking more depressed today than she had yesterday. Hattie didn’t make her normal chipper conversation, which was probably for the best—and Charlie was already long gone.

                They once again car pooled to school. Beau was pleased to find that, though the clouds were dense and opaque, it wasn’t raining yet. It was very tempting not to grab his umbrella, but he groaned on the way out and did so anyways—it seemed a bit like tempting fate.

                School was easier, because he knew what to expect. He had English class with the girls, uncharacteristically pleased when he realized that Edythe Cullen shared this class with them. They sat as far apart as possible in the small classroom, which was probably why he hadn’t noticed her yesterday. But her tousled bronze hair was hard to miss today, now that he’d been pondering her through the night.

                She didn’t look at him when he came in, which in itself didn’t disappoint him. It was that she very deliberately didn’t look at him, almost angling her body from him, pretending not to see him.

                Maybe he was looking too far into things.

—x—

                People didn’t look at her quite as much as they did yesterday, which was a nice change. During English, a puppy-dog like boy named Mike came and sat with her—she remembered his face from her Biology class, and even Gym. He walked with her to her next class, Chess-Club Eric glaring at them the whole way; that was nattering.

                At lunch she sat together with a big group of people that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and even more people she now recognized. Beau and Hattie were promptly on time, though Hattie refused to look at Jessica.

                But though it was easier, it was still worse than yesterday. She was tired, still not being able to sleep with the wind and the rain echoing through the loft. Mr. Varner called on her in Trig even though her hand wasn’t raised, and she had the wrong answer.

                It was miserable because she had to play volleyball, and the one time she didn’t cringe out of the way of the ball, she knocked Hattie in the head with it.

                And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn’t in school at all.

                All morning she had dreaded lunch, fearing his bizarre glances. Part of her wanted to confront him, demand to know what his problem was. When she was laying sleepless in bed she even pictured what she’d say to him. But Bella knew herself too well: she’d never have the guts to do it.

                But when she walked into lunch with Jessica—trying to keep her eyes from sweeping the room for him, and failing entirely—she saw that his five siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them.

                Even as Mike intercepted them, steering them to his table, she waited nervously for him to arrive. Jessica seemed elated at the attention, and her friends joined them, but Bella was too anxious. Their easy chatter did nothing to cool her nerves. She was uncomfortable, wondering if he would simply ignore her when he arrived and prove her suspicions false.

                He didn’t show up, though, and as time passed Bella became more and more tense.

                Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by her side to biology. She had grown more and more confident during lunch, but when she entered the classroom she still held her breath. But Edward Cullen wasn’t there, either.

                She exhaled and went to her seat, Mike following along. He was talking easily about an upcoming beach trip and lingered by her desk until the bell rang. Then he smiled wistfully at Bella and went to sit by his lab partner, behind Hattie.

                Bella felt she’d have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn’t be easy. In a small town like this, where everyone lived on top of each other, diplomacy was essential. She’d never been enormously tactful; she had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys.

                She was secretly relieved to have the desk to herself, that Edward was absent. She told herself this repeatedly, but couldn’t get over the nagging suspicion that she was the reason he wasn’t there. It was ridiculous and egotistical, Bella thought, to think she could have such an affect on someone. It was impossible.

                And yet she couldn’t help wondering if it were true.

                When school was finally done, and the blush was fading out of her cheeks after her volleyball incident, Bella changed quickly back into her jeans and navy-blue sweater. She met up with Hattie, apologizing profusely even as the girl laughed it off, and then they headed out—successfully avoiding Bella’s retriever friend for the moment.

                The parking lot was crowded with fleeing students. Bella and Hattie got in the car, set to wait for Beau to join up with them. Hattie was digging through her bag for her phone.

                “Oh, hey,” Hattie murmured, looking over at Bella. “Did you happen to grab the grocery money?”

                “I think Beau did,” Bella responded. She could see Hattie’s phone screen from this angle—it was a text from someone called ★JAKE★. _“finished reading ur book. pretty rad. what’s next?”_

                “Good, do you mind if we stop at the store before heading home?” Hattie asked distractedly, clicking away a response on her phone. “We’re getting pretty low on groceries.”

                Someone tapped on the window and Hattie glanced up, unlocking the door for Beau. Then they reversed carefully into the line of cars queuing to exit the parking lot.

                As they waited, Beau and Hattie chatting about something that happened in art class, Bella tried to pretend she was anywhere else. She noticed the Hale twins, and the three Cullens, getting into a car—it was the shiny Volvo. Of course.

                She hadn’t noticed their clothes before, she’d been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that she looked, it was obvious they were all dressed exceptionally well: simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins.

                With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could’ve worn dish rags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have good looks _and_ money.

                That was just the way life worked sometimes, though. Besides, it hadn’t seemed to bring them any acceptance here.

                Bella didn’t quite accept that—the isolation must be their desire. She couldn’t imagine any door that couldn’t be opened with that level of beauty.

                The Thriftway wasn’t that far from school, and the large building was a reprieve for Bella. It was big enough that she couldn’t hear the rain tapping away outside.

                She did the shopping at home and fell easily into the familiar routine, debating with Hattie on which produce seemed the freshest and what was the best deal. When they got home, Bella decided to help her cousin prep dinner—it was something she liked doing, and another familiarity she hadn’t enjoyed since coming to Forks.

                Afterward she went and changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulling her hair into a pony tail, and joined Hattie and Beau at the table doing homework. Before starting, though, she opened the email app on her phone.

                She had three starred messages—why her mom didn’t just text her was beyond Bella’s imagination. She’d get a faster response that way.

                _Bella,_ Renee wrote. _Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me all about your flight. Is it raining? I miss you two already. I’m almost finished packing for Florida, but I can’t find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom._

The second was timestamped eight hours after the first.

                _Bella,_ she began again. _Why haven’t you e-mailed me? What are you waiting for? Beau already wrote back. Mom._

The last was from this morning.

                _Isabella, if I haven’t heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today, I’m calling Charlie._

Bella glanced at the time idly. She still had an hour left, but Renee was well-known for jumping the gun.

                _Mom,_

_Calm down. I’m writing now. Don’t do anything rash._

_Bella._

                After sending it, she began a new email, rolling her eyes. Of course Beau had written Renee as soon as they landed—he was a momma’s boy. Bella was close to her too, but not to the extent that Beau was.

                _Mom,_

_Everything is great. Of course it’s raining, it’s Forks. I was just waiting for something to write about._

_School isn’t bad, just repetitive. Beau and I only share a couple classes, but it’s alright. I met some nice kids in my other classes._

_Your blouse is at the dry cleaner’s. You were supposed to pick it up Friday._

_I’m sure Beau already told you, but Charlie bought us a truck. Can you believe it? It’s old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me. We haven’t gotten to drive it yet though. We carpool with our cousin to school to save gas._

_I miss you too. I’ll write again soon—you know I’d message back faster if you just texted me, right? I’m not checking my email every five minutes. Relax, breathe._

_I love you._

_Bella._

                Hattie was putting the steak on to broil when Charlie came in. He must’ve smelled the food, because he called, “Hattie? Kids?”

                _Who else?_ Bella thought.

                “In here, dad,” Beau called, sounding amused. “Welcome home.”

                “Thanks.” He hung up his gun and stepped out of his boots as Bella continued scratching out her homework.

                As far as she was aware, he’d never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When they were younger, he’d always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. She guessed he considered them old enough now not to shoot themselves on accident, and not depressed enough to do it on purpose.

                “What’s for dinner?” he asked Hattie as he wandered in, ruffling Beau’s hair along the way. He kissed Hattie’s head when he made it to her, but left Bella well enough alone—which she was grateful for. “Aren’t you a buncha studious kids. Good on you.”

                “Steak and potatoes,” Hattie answered cheerfully. “Good day at work?”

                They chatted quietly as Bella began tossing a salad for dinner. Beau took this as his cue to clear the table, stacking all their textbooks on the counter instead.

                The family sat down together around the table, eating quietly for a little bit. None of them were bothered by the silence, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In some ways, they were well-suited for living together.

                “So, how did you like school? Make any friends?” Charlie asked them conversationally as he was taking seconds.

                Hattie looked up, curiously, too.

                Beau started talking first. “School was fine. I have almost all my classes with Hattie, so I never get lost. I haven’t really made any friends, but everyone is really nice.”

                “Yeah, everybody seems pretty nice,” Bella agreed after a moment, thinking, _with one outstanding exception_. “I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica, and we all sit with her and her friends at lunch. And there’s this boy, Mike, who’s very friendly.”

                “That must be Mike Newton,” Charlie commented. “Nice kid—nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside town. He even taught Hattie to drive and found her a car.”

                “Yeah, the Newtons are great,” Hattie agreed. “But sometimes over friendly.”

                It might’ve just been her imagination, but Bella thought she saw Hattie smiling slyly at her.

                “Do you know the Cullens?” Bella asked hesitantly. She didn’t know if Hattie had a problem with anyone discussing them, or if it was a Jessica problem.

                “Dr. Cullen’s family? Sure. Dr. Cullen’s a great man,” Charlie said.

                “I didn’t know you knew the Cullens,” Hattie piped in. “You never said anything.”

                “Most people seem to think the kids are a little weird,” Beau added, sounding just as hesitant as Bella had. “They don’t seem to fit in very well at school.”

                Charlie surprised Bella by looking angry, and she could see that that pleased Hattie.

                “People in this town,” he muttered. “Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here,” he continued, getting louder. “We’re lucky to have him—lucky his wife wanted to live in a small town. He’s an asset to the community, and all those kids are well-behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they moved in with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they’re all very mature—I haven’t had one speck of trouble from any of them. That’s more than I can say for the children of some of the folks who’ve lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should—camping trips every other weekend…Just because they’re newcomers, people have to talk.”

                It was the longest speech she’d ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying. Bella could see from the look on Beau’s face that he was just as surprised as she was. But Hattie seemed to puff up happily, like a little bird.

                “That’s what I told that Jessica girl,” Hattie grumbled. “People are just jealous of them.”

                “Yeah, they seem nice enough,” Bella backpedaled. “I just noticed they keep to themselves. They’re all very attractive.”

                Beau was nodding along, seeming lost in his own little world—he probably had a crush on one of them, knowing her brother.

                “You should see the doctor,” Charlie said, laughing. “It’s a good thing he’s happily married. A lot of the nurses have a hard time focusing on their work with him around.”

                They lapsed back into silence easily as they finished eating. Hattie was the first to depart that night, leaving the dishes behind—but she had cooked, so Bella was happy to do the dishes as Beau cleared the table.

                That night it was finally quiet. Bella fell asleep quickly, exhausted.

—x—

                Hattie, on the other hand, was having trouble sleeping. She sat at her desk, letters spread out before her.

                Technically, she was supposed to burn them once she was finished reading them. It was a safety mechanism she’d never questioned until now, cut off from her world as she was. But now, she was having a hard time bringing herself to do it.

                She’d already held onto them longer than she should have. She was sure to keep them with her, so there was no risk of them falling into the wrong hands…but to be honest, Hattie wasn’t that worried.

                She’d been in Forks for six weeks and had yet to run into a single hint of magic. Hattie was more sensitive to it than a lot of her people, since she was trained windlessly—many of the new generation were more sensitive. There was a lot of aura readers (ones who could sense much more than Hattie), and most of the kids Hattie’s age could sense the magic surrounding them. It came with the territory of learning wandlessly: you had to feel the magic to use it, after all.

                Only a few of her acquaintances had been able to write. Luna Lovegood wrote about nargles in Ottery St. Catchpole, and her worry on how to clear them out before there was an infestation. Hattie had long since learned that you had to read between the lines with Luna, and gathered that the war was coming ever closer to the village her friends lived in.

                Ginny Weasley wrote that her brother, Bill, had gotten married. She spent nearly four inches of parchment describing the wedding, even though from the sound of it, it was tiny and private. She also waxed poetic about a muggle girl in the village, and how she was thinking about getting a job at the local Co-Op now that Bill was moving out.

                Hermione sent along a small letter about her acceptance into a highly esteemed university. Hattie was thrilled for her friend, though Hermione seemed reluctant to move on from McGonagall. “ _I fear it all might one day seem a dream,_ ” Hermione said, “ _Were I to move on in the muggle world and never pursue a mastery. I know logically that most of our people think there is no future in the wizarding world…I can’t believe that. One day I might have children like me, and the thought that they will only ever experience the secrecy and terror that I have felt these last eleven years—it haunts me. I never want to forget the things McGonagall has taught me. Recently there’ve been rumors throughout the community about a rebel group called the Order of the Phoenix. A few of our acquaintances are supposedly running it. I’m thinking about seeing what I can offer them._ ”

                Lastly, Neville Longbottom wrote her. He was a sweet boy. His Gran had tried to set them up, once upon a time—she wasn’t one of the few people privy to Hattie’s true identity, but Augusta Longbottom was impressed with the power Hattie held. It wasn’t that Hattie disliked Neville, just that dating a wizarding boy would have been too stressful. Constant worry about his safety, always having to lie about her identity, never being able to meet up regularly.

                Neville wrote about the past. He seemed nostalgic for the one time all of her friends had gathered—a celebration. Hattie could remember it like it was yesterday. Even with everything that came after it, she too was nostalgic for those summer days. This was before they realized how dangerous it was to meet up in large groups, before they started hearing word of the regime being able to track magical hotspots.

                And what’s a bigger magical hotspot than a group of fourteen young wizards and their teachers?

                But it was a celebration of life. Hattie was young then, maybe eleven, not privy to the goings-on of the rebellion. She’d known Severus and McGonagall conspired a lot (a reason she knew Hermione better than some of the other muggleborn wizards), but she hadn’t known they’d been actively taking out members of the regime. “Death Eaters,” they called themselves.

                On this particular summer day, the sun glinted low in the sky by the time they’d all gathered. They were celebrating the birth of Cedric Diggory’s new sibling, a tiny witch called Cecelia. Hattie still kept a picture of the two siblings pressed between the pages of one of her grimoires.

                The birth of a wizard was more sacred these days than any other: many families were too scared, too uncertain of the future, to bring new life into the world. Cecelia was revered, a new hope: proof that even in the darkest times, those who were strong could continue pushing for light.

                Unbeknownst to Hattie, there was more going on. Professor and McGonagall were waiting on news of an infiltration, whispering in low tones to Amos and the other adults. But she never knew at that point. She could see herself, like a snapshot, in the moments before the news came: her hair loose, wild around her head, laughing with the other children. The sun kissed their honeyed cheeks and they lounged, carefree, together.

                Many of them had met that day for the first time, and many had met for the last time.

                Professor got a message from one of the rebels in that second, and it was as if all the children could sense the dramatic turn of events. Hattie’s perfect snapshot, her laughing face, suddenly snapped. Everyone was panicking. The infiltration had failed—the rebel was captured. The regime was coming.

                They all had enough forewarning to leave, as quickly and quietly as they came. Nobody from the celebration was harmed that day. Hattie later found out the scene of their celebration was ransacked for any information, but they were too used to secrecy: nothing of importance was left behind.

                “ _That day was perfect,_ ” Neville wrote nostalgically. “ _The first half. Cecelia, and_ all _of us together for the first time. Sometimes I think about the Diggorys. In a way they strengthened our spirits in a way nothing else could. I haven’t seen Cecelia since that day, though she must be five or six by now—she’ll never know Cedric, not how we did. And now her father... And the second half, well, it was a reminder we all needed. Never let your guard down, not even for happiness, not even for the slightest second. Hattie, I miss you._ ”

                Hattie traced the script of Neville’s letter and fought back tears. She’d written replies for her other friends already, but the trashcan in her bedroom was full of crumpled letters meant for Neville.

                That night, she cried herself to sleep for the first time since coming to Forks. Her dreams were littered with the faces of her friends—some she hadn’t seen in years. In the background of every scene she could hear Professor repeating the words of his letter to her: “Be diligent. I will contact you if anything changes.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (another chapter, because why not?)
> 
> * This chapter follows the last 2/3 of Twilight: 2!

_Some days seem to fit together like a stained glass window. A hundred little pieces of different color and mood that, when combined, create a complete picture. ―[Maggie Stiefvater](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1330292.Maggie_Stiefvater)_

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                The rest of the week was uneventful.

                They got used to their classes. By Friday, Bella was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In gym, the kids on her team learned not to pass her the ball and to quickly step in front of her if the other team tried to take advantage of the weakness. She happily stayed out of their way.

                Edward Cullen didn’t come back to school.

                Every day, she watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. Then she could relax and join the lunchtime conversation.

                Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. Hattie was going, seeming to vibrate with pent up excitement whenever it was mentioned. Bella and Beau were invited, of course, and had agreed to go more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry, in her opinion.

                By Friday she was perfectly comfortable entering her biology class with Hattie, no longer worried that Edward would be there. For all she could guess, he had dropped out of school. She tried not to think about him, but couldn’t totally suppress the worry that she was somehow responsible for his continued absence—ridiculous though it seemed.

                Her first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, a creature of habit, fished most of the weekend—he invited them along, but Beau and Bella had no desire. Hattie had just waved him off, telling him, “Not this time.”

                Bella cleaned, got ahead on her homework, and wrote Renee another bogusly cheerful email.

                One thing of note was her first drive in her new truck. She took it to the library, which had been an abysmal experience. It was so poorly stocked she didn’t even bother getting a library card—she’d have to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore.

                But the truck was great. It was old, and _loud,_ the engine roaring to life when she turned the key in the ignition. By some miracle, the radio worked—a plus that Bella had not expected. The cab had an old-car-smell; like peppermint and tobacco and gasoline. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It puttered along nicely on the road, though the gas mileage was pretty lacking. (She rethought Seattle, and then wondered if Hattie would go with her.)

                When Bella complained of the lack of choices at the library, Hattie had offered up her own (still small, still lacking) library. It was mostly young adult fiction, not Bella’s usual cup of tea, but she couldn’t complain much.

                The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so Bella was able to sleep pretty well.

                Hattie acted strangely melancholy all weekend, reading and rereading a sheaf of loose, thick paper. Beau had caught Bella before she could ask about it, shaking his head warningly. Later they discussed that it was from her friends back home, and Bella could understand how that might make someone melancholy.

                People greeted them in the parking lot Monday morning. Bella didn’t know most of their names, but she waved back and smiled at everybody.

                It was colder that morning, but happily not raining.

                In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by her side. They had a pop quiz, but it was straight-forward and easy—though Beau seemed to struggle with it.

                All in all, Bella felt more comfortable than she could have imagined at this point. More comfortable than she could have imagined ever feeling in Forks.

                When they walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. She could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. Bella detested the snow—it bit at her cheeks, her nose.

                Hattie was pretty excited about it though. As she and Beau headed in the opposite direction, the girl was bouncing around like an over-excited puppy.

                “Wow,” Mike said. “It’s snowing!”

                Bella looked at the little cotton fluffs that were swirling past her face, building up on the sidewalk.

                “Ew,” she muttered. There went her good mood.

                Mike looked surprised. “Don’t you like snow?”

                “No, that just means it’s too cold for rain. Besides, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes—you know, each one unique and all that. These look like the ends of Q-tips.”

                “Haven’t you ever seen snow fall before?” he asked incredulously.

                “Sure I have.” She hesitated. “On TV.”

                While Mike laughed, a big, squishy ball of snow hit the back of his head. They both turned to see where it came from—Bella had her suspicions about Eric. He was walking away, back toward them, in the opposite direction of his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion, because he was already scraping up a pile of the white mush.

                Bella quickly bid her adieus—she didn’t want to be around while the wet stuff was flying. Mike didn’t mind, too intent on his paybacks.

                Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow. Apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year.

                Bella kept her mouth shut—sure, it was drier than rain…until it melted in your socks.

                She walked to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish, on high alert. Mush balls were flying everywhere. She kept a binder in her hands as a makeshift shield, which Jessica though was hilarious. Something in Bella’s expression kept Jessica from lobbing a snowball at her, though.

                Mike caught up to them as they walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes of his hair. He and Jessica talked animatedly about the snow fight as they got in line to buy food.

                Out of habit, Bella glanced toward that table in the corner—and froze where she stood. There were six people at the table.

                She looked down, her ears hot—she had no reason to feel self-conscious, and yet…

                Jessica was trying to get her attention, asking her what she wanted, but Bella couldn’t be bothered anymore. She just felt sick. Instead, she walked slowly to their own table, sitting down heavily next to Beau.

                “You okay?” her diligent twin asked, moving to feel her forehead. “You look pale.”

                Hattie was also looking concerned, her too-bright eyes flickering over Bella’s features. Apparently finding nothing indicating sickness, Hattie unpacked her lunch and slid over some baked chicken.

                “You didn’t eat much breakfast today,” the smaller girl explained. “Share my food, please.”

                The concern made her feel a little bubbly, so she did as was requested. As she chewed the chicken slowly, her stomach churned.

                Twice Mike asked, from down the table, with unnecessary concern, if she was feeling alright. Beau and Hattie made excuses for her, to which Bella was extraordinarily grateful. Though she did wonder if she should play it up a little—escape to the nurse for the next hour.

                Ridiculous. She shouldn’t have to run away—she’d done nothing wrong. Bella decided to permit herself a glance at the Cullen family’s table. If he was glaring at her, she would skip biology like the coward she was.

                She looked from under her lashes at first, inconspicuously, but none of them were looking her way. She lifted her head a little. They were laughing.

                Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Even Edythe hadn’t escaped. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them.

                They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else—only they looked more like a scene from the movie than the rest of the school.

                Aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different about them. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what the difference was. She examined Edward the most carefully. He was less pale, perhaps—flushed from the snow fight maybe—the circles under his eyes less noticeable. She pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change.

                “Bella, what are you staring at?” Jessica asked. Hattie and Beau both looked over at her, too.

                At that precise moment, Edward’s eyes flashed over to hers. She dropped her head, letting her hair cover her face—but she was sure, in that moment, that he didn’t look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time she’d seen him. He looked merely curious, unsatisfied in some way.

                Hattie hummed curiously. “Edward Cullen is staring at you.”

                “He doesn’t look angry, does he?” Bella demanded of her cousin.

                “No,” Hattie decided, glancing up under her eyelashes as well—looking the perfect spy. “Frustrated, maybe. Curious. Should he be angry?”

                “I don’t think he likes me,” Bella confided. She still felt queasy, so she laid her head down on her arm.

                “I think that they’re just shy,” Beau offered. “They all seem sort of distant and stand-offish. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

                “But he is still staring at you,” Hattie offered. “Or Beau, but for some reason I don’t think that’s the case.”

                “Stop looking at him,” Bella hissed.

                “He can’t tell,” Hattie told her, shrugging. But she looked away anyways.

                Mike interrupted then, planning an epic blizzard blowout in the parking lot after school. Bella and Beau shared a long, pained glance, and even Hattie grimaced at the idea. They’d have to hide in the changing room after gym, until the parking lot was clear.

                For the rest of lunch hour Bella made sure to keep her eyes on her own table. She’d decided to honor the bargain she’d made with herself—Edward Cullen hadn’t looked angry, so she’d be going to biology. Her stomach didn’t frightened flips at the thought of sitting next to him again.

                Bella walked with Hattie to class as usual, trying to avoid Mike’s puppy-dogging. He seemed to be a popular target for snowball snipers. But as they exited the doors, everyone else seemed groaned in unison—it was raining. The snow was washing away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway.

                She put her hood up, secretly pleased.

                When they got to biology, Bella saw with relief that her table was still empty. Mr. Banner was passing out microscopes and a boxes of slides to each table. Class didn’t start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation.

                Bella heard clearly when the chair next to her moved, but her eyes stayed focused on her notebook, where she was doodling.

                “Hello,” said a quiet, musical voice.

                She looked up, stunned that he was speaking to her. He was still sitting as far away as the desk would allow, but his chair was angled toward her. His hair, dripping wet and disheveled, didn’t take away from the fact that he looked like he’d just shot a commercial. His dazzling face was open, friendly, a slight smile on his lips—but his eyes were careful.

                “My name is Edward Cullen,” he continued. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan.”

                Her mind was spinning—had she made the whole thing up? He was perfectly polite now. She had to speak, he was waiting, but she couldn’t think of anything conversational to say.

                “H-how do you know my name?” she stammered.

                He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.

                “Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town has been waiting for you to arrive.”

                Bella grimaced—though she’d expected the answer, it was unsatisfactory. Between the buzz of Charlie’s niece coming to stay with him and the buzz of his estranged twin children, she was sure there was a huge commotion surrounding her arrival.

                “No,” she persisted stupidly. “I meant, why did you call me Bella?”

                He seemed confused. “Do you prefer Isabella?”

                Her heart thumped hard in her chest at the sound of her name on his lips.

                “No, I like Bella,” she said. “It’s just that Charlie—my dad—must call me Isabella behind my back. That’s what everyone seems to know me as.”

                Her awkward explanation seemed to confuse him even more, but he let the conversation drop. Thankfully, Mr. Banner decided to use that moment to start the class.

                She tried to focus on the explanation of the lab they were doing, but it was hard. For one thing, she’d already done a basically identical lab back in Phoenix—and for two, Edward’s mere presence was frazzling her brain.

                “Get started,” Mr. Banner instructed.

                “Ladies first, partner?” Edward asked. She glanced up to see he was grinning a crooked smile so beautiful that Bella could only stare at him like an idiot. “Or I could start, if you wish.” His smile had vanished; obviously he was wondering if Bella was mentally competent.

                “No, I’ll go ahead,” she said, flushing. He seemed to shift in his chair, but motioned her toward the microscope.

                She was showing off a little—since she’d done this lab, she knew how to set it up already. Bella snapped the slide in carefully, adjusting the microscope to the correct setting. It was pretty easy to identify.

                “Prophase,” she told him confidently.

                “Do you mind if I look?” Edward asked. His hand caught hers to stop her from removing the slide. It was ice cold, like he’d been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn’t why she jerked her hand away so quickly. When he touched her, it stung as if an electric current had just passed through them.

                “I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. But he still went for the microscope—he identified it quicker than Bella had, writing _prophase_ in a neat, elegant script on their worksheet.

                Passing the microscope back and forth, both checking the other’s work, they finished before anyone else was near done. Bella could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides over and over again. One group had their book open under their table. Across the room, Hattie was explaining to Angela that one slide was absolutely metaphase—even though the other girl seemed hopelessly lost.

                She was left with nothing to do but try not to stare at Edward…unsuccessfully. When she looked up, _he_ was staring at _her_ , that same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly, Bella identified the difference in his face.

                “Did you get contacts?” she blurted.

                He seemed puzzled by her unexpected question. “No.”

                “Oh,” she mumbled. “I thought there was something different about your eyes.”

                He shrugged and looked away.

                Even with his blatant denial, Bella was sure there was something different about his eyes. She remembered vividly the dark color: black, like coal, striking against his pale skin. Today, his eyes were a strange, light color—ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. She didn’t understand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason about the contacts.

                Or maybe Forks was making her crazy in the literal sense of the word.

                When Bella looked down, Edward’s hands were clenched back into fists. She decided to let it go.

                Mr. Banner came around eventually and told Edward off for not allowing her the opportunity to learn. Edward defended her—she _had_ identified over half the slides, after all. Bella had to sheepishly explain that she’d done the lab before, with whitefish blastula instead of onion root.

                After he left, Edward began trying to make small-talk.

                “It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?”

                Paranoia swept over Bella—it was like he’d overheard her conversation at lunch with Hattie and Beau and was trying to prove her wrong.

                “Not really,” she responded honestly. She wouldn’t pretend to be normal just to please him.

                “You don’t like the cold.” It wasn’t a question.

                “Or the wet,” Bella confirmed.

                “Forks must be a difficult place for you to live,” Edward mused.

                “You have no idea…” she muttered darkly.

—x—

                Bella Swan was a true mystery to Edward. Last week, when she passed him on her way to Mr. Banner’s desk and he’d caught her scent…he had nearly lost himself. Everything around him ceased to exist—his gaze narrowed in on her slight, pale form. He’d been rude.

                Better for her to think he hated her than have her dead, though.

                He spent the entire hour alternately convincing himself not to kill her and thinking up a hundred different ways he could. He wasn’t oblivious to her distress. The more he glared, the harder her heartbeat pounded—the harder it became for him to stay near her.

                He left the room, barely remembering to stay within the frame of human limitation. He went to his sister first, needing her to calm him. They’d had the entire conversation in their heads: her telling him that he was fine, comforting him, that he was _strong_ and _willful._ That no human girl could best him. Then he would tell her that she couldn’t possibly understand. He had nearly broken.

                Edward spent most of the week in Alaska, hunting freely. His family had called him frequently, each trying to convince him to come home. Even Edythe couldn’t get through to him, though.

                It was Esme who broke him in the end, and thus he was back here again—but even having freshly hunted, sitting next to Bella Swan was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

                Her face was an open book, but her mind not so much. It was a frustration to him. He was so used to having access to every fleeting thought—even Edythe was beginning to get frustrated. They’d never come across anyone who they couldn’t hear.

                But that was before the Swan twins.

                Beaufort—Beau—was just as bad. Edward knew Edythe had taken an interest in him, and she was under the impression that she just had to crack his brain open—metaphorically. He’d watched her puzzle him out from afar, concentrating solely on gaining access to his thoughts.

                Edward was trying a different route.

                He was utterly _fascinated_ by her. From the way she looked—breathtaking in the way no human should be allowed to be—to the way she spoke, the way she walked. Her quiet disposition had him aching to know more about her.

                Even Edythe thought this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t help it.

                “Why did you come here, then?” he asked, eyes flickering across the girl’s face in curiosity.

                She was surprised. Edward didn’t think anybody had asked her that question before.

                “It’s…complicated,” she told him.

                “I think I can keep up,” he pressed, the longing to know everything about her making him even more intense than usual.

                She hesitated for a long moment, and he wasn’t sure he’d get his answer. Then she glanced up, meeting his gaze. Something in his face must have changed her mind.

                “My mother got remarried.”

                “That doesn’t sound so complex,” Edward disagreed. He was surprised by the sympathy he felt. She looked sad, and he didn’t like the idea that a strange new man had ousted her from her home. “When did that happen?”

                “Last September.” Bella’s voice was down-trodden. Her eyes were heavy with sadness.

                “And you don’t like him,” he surmised, trying to be gentle. He didn’t know why he kept making assumptions. He was just so used to the knowledge his skills gave him that guessing felt better than not knowing.

                “No, Phil is fine,” Bella disagreed. “Too young, maybe, but nice enough.”

                He was lost now. If she liked the step-father, why didn’t she just stay with them? He pondered this aloud, invested in her life story.

                “Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living,” Bella told him. Her half-smile caused his lips to twitch as well.

Edward began wracking his brain for all the baseball players he knew with the name Phil—there were too many for him to narrow down.

                “Have I heard of him?” he asked instead, smiling unconsciously.

                “Probably not. He doesn’t play _well._ Strictly minor league—he moves around a lot.”

                Ah—finally. To the bottom of it. “And your mother sent you here so she could travel with him.” A selfish move, if understandable.

                But Bella’s chin raised defiantly. “No, she did not send us here. We sent ourselves.”

                He could feel his eyebrows knit together. “I don’t understand,” he said honestly. He was frustrated by this…not being able to read her was driving him insane.

                He heard her sigh. Now she sounded frustrated too, but he was curious still.

                “She stayed with Beau and I at first,” Bella began. “But she missed Phil. She was unhappy, and Beau and I could tell. So we decided to spend some quality time with Charlie. It worked out perfect that our cousin happened to be here, too.”

                Her cousin. Hattie. Another frustrating teenager—perhaps, in some ways, more frustrating than the Swan twins. Edward ran his hand through his tousled hair. Sometimes he wondered if Hattie was entirely sane. Her mind wasn’t _closed_ to him, necessarily, just… _jumbled._ Or staticky, maybe. He couldn’t make sense of anything within it, it was sort of muted, like it was underwater. Every once in a while he could hear a clear statement: right now, for example. _…letter…Edward…unhappy._ He’d thought at first he could add the statements up and they’d make sense, but they never did. What letter, what did it have to do with Edward, who was unhappy?

                Most of the time he just tuned her out. Edythe had made a game of it though. She’d been frustrated when the more she tried to understand Hattie’s thoughts, the harder it became—static gave way to high pitched white noise, alarms possibly, and the uncanny feeling of danger.

                He shook himself back into the present, staring at Bella. “But now you’re unhappy,” he pointed out.

                “And?” she challenged.

                “That doesn’t seem fair.”

                She gave a laugh that was entirely too bitter for a girl like Bella. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you? Life’s not fair.”

                They bantered some more back and forth—Bella seemed insistent on playing the martyr. Even though she was unhappy, she stayed here to allow her mother to be happy.

                “Why does it matter to you?” Bella finally asked, sounding irritated.

                He hesitated—this was a question he’d asked himself a thousand times. “That’s a very good question,” he responded, almost to himself.

—x—

                Beau, Hattie, and Bella gathered in the gymnasium as the majority of one team—which was pretty easy as nobody else was brave enough to have the Swans on their team. Mike was also on their team, and between him and Hattie they managed to cover all of the positions.

                The rain was a mist as Hattie and Bella walked to the car. Hattie jiggled around with the keys and managed to get the heat roaring before too long as they relaxed, waiting for Beau to join them.

                “Edward Cullen was pretty nice to you today,” Hattie commented, flicking through her phone. “Big turnaround from last Monday.”

                Bella found herself blushing, as if she were on trial. “Yeah, I guess so. Maybe you were right and he was in pain or something.”

                Hattie hummed idly, tapping out a text. Bella caught sight of a lone figure, three cars down from her. Edward Cullen, still and white against the hood of his Volvo—staring intently in her direction.

                Beau joined them and Bella urged her cousin to exit the lot. The usually speedy girl seemed sloth-like to Bella, who wanted to get away from Edward’s burning gaze.

                As they peeled away, Bella could’ve sworn she saw him laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, if you like the story so far, drop a comment! I'll try to respond to most of them, and if you ask a question, I'll answer it to the best of my ability! 
> 
> I have a tentative plan for New Moon, but I haven't started working on it yet. Much of Bella's chapters in the first part of And the Stars Walk Backward are very by-the-book (as it follows along Twilight almost exactly). But New Moon will not be that way. We're going to try and focus more on Hattie and Beau, since Bella is a zombie for several months. I know what Hattie will be doing, but I'm not sure yet about Beau. I haven't done much with his character except for far future scenes (probably Eclipse or end of New Moon). Filling in the blanks from here to there is the hard part.
> 
> So, if there's anything you'd like to see in Beau's character, let me know! Take into consideration that I already know his end pairing, and I've finished writing for Twilight so anything you suggest won't be until New Moon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Follows Twilight: 3  
> \- Slightly darker/more dramatic twist on the car accident scene

_“It's gonna be okay," I said. It was the first time in a long time that I believed it. "It will.” ―[Sarah Dessen](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2987.Sarah_Dessen)_

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                When she opened her eyes in the morning, something was different.

                It was the light. It was still the grey-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. Bella realized there was no fog veiling her window.

                She jumped up to look outside and groaned in horror.

                A fine layer of snow had covered the yard, dusting the top of her truck, Hattie’s car, and the road. But that wasn’t the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid, coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. Bella had enough trouble not falling down when the ground was dry; it might be safer for her to go back to bed now.

                Charlie had already left for work when Bella got downstairs. Likewise, her brother and cousin were waiting on her, breakfast eaten. They were discussing the English assignment and Beau was moaning about how he needed to go talk to his Chemistry teacher before classes started.

                Hattie had somehow known that Bella was going to be running late, because there was a plate set full of still-warm breakfast. Bella gratefully gulped it down. She was excited to go to school, and that scared her. She knew it wasn’t the stimulating environment that she was anticipating—nor was it her new set of friends. If she was being honest with herself, she knew that she was eager to get to school because she would see Edward Cullen.

                And that was very, very stupid.

                She should be avoiding him entirely after her inane, endless babbling yesterday. And she was still suspicious of him; why would he lie about his eyes? She was still frightened by the hostility she sometimes felt emanating from him, and tongue-tied when she pictured his perfect face.

                Bella was well aware that her league and his league were spheres that did not touch. So, she shouldn’t be anxious about seeing him today.

                It took every ounce of her concentration, combined with Hattie’s somehow extraordinary reflexes, to make it down the icy driveway. They both made it to Hattie’s small car with only a few spooky slides. They scrambled into their seats, laughing wildly as they watched Beau try to make his way down—eventually the tall boy took a fall, and as he grumbled to himself (obviously wounded only in pride), they roared even harder.

                On the drive to school, Bella distracted herself from thoughts of Edward Cullen and Hattie’s slow, careful driving by thinking about Mike and Eric. There was an obvious difference to how teenage boys responded to her here. She was sure she looked exactly the same as she had in Phoenix. Maybe it was that the boys there had watched her go through her awkward adolescent phases and still thought of her that way.

                Or maybe it was that she was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between.

                Though Hattie didn’t seem to have that problem, Bella got the feeling that the girl had somehow gotten rid of the boys: neither Eric nor Mike gave her so much as an over-friendly glance. All their correspondence with her was straight and to the point.

                Possibly Bella’s crippling clumsiness was seen as endearing here, rather than pathetic, casting her as a damsel in distress. Whatever the reason, Mike’s puppy dog behavior and Eric’s apparent rivalry with him were disconcerting. She wondered if she should take a page out of Hattie’s book and somehow get rid of them.

                Hattie’s car seemed to have no problem with the icy roads, thanks in part to the chains Charlie had had the foresight to install. They didn’t so much as fish-tail around a curve. Still, the girl drove slowly, fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

                When the trio arrived at school, Beau escaped the car hurriedly. He called out the same excuse about needing to talk to his chemistry teacher—his getaway was a slow but steady hobble across the icy parking lot.

                Bella stood by the back corner of the car, waiting for Hattie so that they could go to class together. She felt she had more of a chance making it to English unscathed if her cousin was holding her elbow.

                It was as Hattie joined her and they prepared to leave for class that the girls heard an odd sound.

                It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. They both glanced up, startled.

                Bella saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it did in movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make her brain work much faster, and she was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.

                Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from them, staring at her in horror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. Beau, further up the parking lot, had turned to look for the noise and upon seeing the cause, dropped his things, screaming as he began to make his way back toward them.

                But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back quadrant of Hattie’s car—and the duo was standing between them. Bella didn’t even have time to close her eyes, though she felt Hattie’s entire body tensing up in preparation.

                Just before she heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit her—but not from the direction she expected. Her head cracked against the icy blacktop, something solid and cold pinning her to the ground.

                She was laying on the pavement behind the tan car Hattie had parked next to.

                But she didn’t have time to notice anything else—all she could see was the van, still coming.

                A low oath in front of her made her aware that someone else was there, and the voice was impossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out protectively, and the van shuddered to a stop before her. His large hands fit perfectly into a deep dent in the side of the van’s body.

                The hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging her, swinging her legs around like a rag doll’s till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt her ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt—exactly where, a second ago, her legs had rested.

                It was silent for one long second, and then the screaming began. In the sudden bedlam, Bella could hear more than one person calling for her and Hattie. But more clearly than all the yelling was Edward’s low, frantic voice.

                “Shit, shit, shit,” he was cursing. His hands were a little shaky. “Bella, are you alright?”

                “I’m fine,” she groaned. Her voice sounded strange to her ears, and she sat up slowly. His hands were no longer pinning her down, instead his back was to her.

                “Be careful, I think you hit your head pretty hard,” he warned, but his voice was tight.

                Bella touched her head, which did indeed ache. She was trying to figure out what was going on, why he was still swearing in that beautiful voice of his, when she saw two thin, legging-clad legs.

                Hattie.

                This was when the scent of blood hit her: metallic, almost coppery. She abruptly grew nauseous, shaking herself to remain conscious. The thick red fluid was oozing through the snow, originating from Hattie’s prone form.

                “Oh my god,” Bella realized why Edward was swearing so much, why his hands were so shaky. “Oh, my god, Edward, oh my god. Oh my god.”

                She was vaguely aware that she must be going into shock. Tears blurred her vision. She was shivering, partly from the cold, mostly from upset—hard shivers wracked her body as she looked at Edward, hovering over her small cousin.

                “She’s alive,” Edward was telling her. “Bella, calm down, you’re in shock. Bella, she’s going to be okay.”

                He came toward her, using his bloodied hands to hold her face still. He forced her to meet his gaze. “Take deep breaths,” he ordered. His normally honey-colored eyes were dark, nearly black. “Focus on me. Take deep breaths.”

                But Bella was hysterical. She shivered harder now, having a hard time focusing on anything other than the red that was slowly creeping closer to her. But the thought crossed her mind, she’d _seen_ him—four cars down.

                “H-how did you get here so fast?” she demanded through her shivers.

                “Bella, I was standing right next to you,” Edward insisted, tying his scarf around her neck. She pushed his hands away, the sight of the crusted blood making her feel even sicker.

                And then they found them. Beau was at the head of the crowd, his tear-coated face taking in the scene with horror. Bella had the sudden, overwhelming urge that she _needed_ him, needed him like a child needs her mother. But he couldn’t get to her.

                “Beau,” she moaned, shifting as if she were going to try and stand up.

                “Don’t move!” someone shouted.

                “Get Tyler out of the van!” said someone else.

                There was a flurry of activity around them, and Bella tried to stand shakily. She was disoriented from all the blood and adrenaline running through her. Edward shoved her back down.

                “Just stay put,” he insisted.

                “I’m c-c- _cold,_ ” Bella stuttered, wiping at her eyes. Her hands came away pink from the blood he’d deposited on her cheeks. “You were o-over there,” she suddenly remembered. “By your c-car.”

                His soft, slightly panicked expression turned hard. “No, I wasn’t.”

                “I saw you.” All around them was chaos. She could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene, she could see someone pulling Beau away from the scene. He was having a melt-down. Still, she held on to the argument.

                She knew she was right, and he was going to admit it.

                “Bella, I was standing with you and pulled you out of the way.” As he said it, he unleashed the full, devastating power of his dark eyes on Bella—but he couldn’t hold it long. Sorrow won out as he gazed back at Hattie again. Bella couldn’t make herself look, lest she panic again at the sight of her tiny cousin’s body.

                She looked like a corpse.

                “No,” she set her jaw hard.

                His eyes blazed. “Please, Bella.” He sounded desperate.

                “Why?” she demanded.

                “Trust me,” he pleaded, his soft voice overwhelming.

                But she couldn’t leave it be. “Promise me you’ll explain everything later.”

                “ _Fine,_ ” he snapped, with half-hearted exasperation.

                “Fine,” Bella repeated, staring down at his sullied hands.

                It took six EMTs and two teachers—Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp—to shift the van far enough away from them to bring the stretchers in. Edward vehemently refused his, and Bella tried to do the same, but the traitor told them she’d hit her head and probably had a concussion. If she hadn’t been so focused on watching them lay Hattie’s prone form out on her stretcher, Bella probably would have died of embarrassment from the neck brace they forced her into.

                It looked like the whole school was there, watching soberly as the EMTs loaded Hattie and Bella into the back of the ambulances. Edward got to ride in the front. It was maddening.

                Beau had struggled himself to his feet, face covered in tears, with the help of Mike. Bella had never felt fonder of the puppy dog-like boy. Beau held onto Bella’s hand like a lifeline until she waved him off to ride with Hattie.

                “She needs you more,” Bella told him, throat thick. “I have Edward.”

                To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get her away safely.

                “Bella!” he yelled in panic when he recognized her on the stretcher.

                “I’m completely fine, Char—Dad,” she sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

                “Where’s Hattie? Beau?” he demanded of her. His eyes were wild with a sort of panic she’d never seen on him. At Hattie’s name, Bella teared back up again.

                “Beau’s with Hattie. He—he wasn’t part of it,” Bella began. “Hattie’s ambulance already left. Dad—I’m scared for her.”

                The panic left his eyes, replaced by a dull resolution. She didn’t like the look, but she was too busy with her own mental health to deal with her father’s.

                As he turned to consult the closest EMT for a second opinion, Bella tuned him out. She tried to get control over her emotions. In an attempt to take her mind off Hattie, she gave in to the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically in her head.

                When they’d lifted her away from the car, she had seen the deep dent in the tan car’s bumper—a very distinctive dent that fit the contours of Edward’s shoulders…as if he’d braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame…

                His family had, astonishingly, been absent when they cleared the wreckage—as if they had no concern for their brother’s safety.

                She tried to think of a logical explanation for what she’d just seen—a solution that excluded the assumption that she was insane.

                Naturally the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. Bella felt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading her, asking open-ended, unanswered questions about Hattie. What made the whole thing worse was Edward simply glided through the hospital doors under his own power.

                They put Bella in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel curtains. Hattie was nowhere to be seen. A nurse put a blood pressure cuff on Bella and a thermometer under her tongue.

                Since no one bothered to pull the curtain to give her any privacy, she decided she wasn’t obligated to wear the stupid-looking neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, she quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed.

                There was another flurry of hospital personnel and Bella perked up, hoping it was Hattie, but she recognized Tyler Crowley from underneath the bloodstained bandages instead. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than how Bella felt, but at least _he_ was conscious.

                He was staring anxiously at Bella.

                “Bella, I’m so sorry!” he cried. “Where’s Hattie, is she okay?”

                “I’m fine, Tyler—I don’t know where Hattie is. Edward said she was going to be okay, though.”

                As they spoke, the nurses began unwrapping his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices across his cheek and forehead.

                Her words seemed to make him feel worse, and he wailed, “I thought I was going to kill you guys! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong…” he winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

                “You missed me,” Bella said, her voice a little bitter. Somehow, she found she couldn’t forgive him, though physically _she_ was fine.

                “How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there with Hattie, and then you were gone…”

                The connotation was that Hattie was still there. Edward pulled Bella out of the way, but had left Hattie to fend for herself—a prickle of anger burst through Bella’s mind.

                “Edward pulled me out of the way.” She said, shortly.

                Tyler looked confused. “Who?”

                “Edward Cullen—he was standing next to me.” She had always been a terrible liar, but her blunt, angry tone was more convincing than she could’ve hoped for.

                “Cullen? I didn’t see him…wow, it was all so fast. Is he okay?”

                “I guess so,” Bella told him. “He’s here somewhere, but they didn’t make him use a stretcher.”

                She knew she wasn’t crazy. What had happened? There was no way to explain what she saw.

                They wheeled her away then, to X-Ray her head. A technician wiped the blood on her face away with alcohol pads, and she was told there was nothing wrong with her. Not even a concussion. She asked if she could leave, but the nurse said Bella had to talk to a doctor first.

                When she arrived back in the ER, she could happily ignore Tyler’s constant apologies and promises to make it up to her—because Hattie was there.

                She was a few beds down, pale and still unconscious, and Beau was by her side. He held her hand and was hunched over her bed, wrapped in a thick orange blanket.

                “He’s in shock,” a musical voice told her. Her eyes snapped up to meet Edward’s. He was standing at the foot of her bed, looking sorrowfully at Hattie’s form.

                Bella glared at him. It wasn’t easy—it’d be more natural to ogle—but she got the feeling he could’ve saved Hattie the way he’d saved her.

                “Hey, Edward, I’m really sorry—” Tyler began.

                Edward lifted a hand and stopped him. “No blood, no foul,” he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. She and Edward both examined the outstretched hand, no doubt both remembering that it _had_ been covered in blood not forty minutes ago.

                He moved to sit on the edge of Tyler’s bed, facing Bella. He smirked half-heartedly.

                “So, what’s the verdict?” he asked her.

                “There’s nothing wrong with me, but they won’t let me go,” she complained. “How come you’re not strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?”

                “It’s all about who you know,” he answered. “But don’t worry, I came to spring you.”

                Then a doctor walked around the corner, and Bella fought not to drop her jaw. He was young, he was blond…and he was more handsome than any movie star she’d ever seen. He was pale, though, tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie’s description, this had to be Edward’s father.

                “So, Miss Swan,” Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice. “How are you feeling?”

                “I’m fine,” she said, for the last time—she hoped.

                He walked to the lightboard on the wall above her head and turned it on.

                “Your X-Rays look good,” he said. “Does your head hurt? Edward said you hit it pretty hard.”

                The doctor’s cool fingers probed lightly along her skull. He noticed when she winced.

                “Tender?” he asked.

                “Not really.” She’d had worse.

                The doctor gave her the all clear, but told her to come back if she felt dizzy or had trouble with her eyesight. He recommended that she went home, but all she wanted to do was interrogate Edward and then join her family at the other end of the ER.

                She hopped off the bed, too quickly, and staggered. Dr. Cullen caught her, looking concerned.

                “I’m fine,” she assured him. No need to tell him her balance problems had nothing to do with hitting her head.

                “Take some Tylenol for the pain,” he suggested as he steadied her.

                “It doesn’t hurt that bad,” Bella insisted.

                “It sounds like you were extremely lucky,” Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed her chart with a flourish.

                “Lucky Edward happened to be standing right next to me,” she amended with a hard glance at the subject of her statement.

                “Oh, well, yes,” Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked away, at Tyler.

                Bella’s intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.

                As soon as the doctor’s back was turned, she moved to Edward’s side.

                “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she hissed under her breath. She could see Charlie joining Hattie and Beau and wanted to talk to Edward before her father noticed her.

                “Your family is waiting for you,” Edward said, through his teeth.

                She glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.

                “I’d like to speak to you alone, if you don’t mind.”

                He glared, then turned his back and strode down the long room. She nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as they turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face her.

                “What do you want?” he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold, vacant—he was elsewhere.

                Still, his unfriendliness intimidated her. Her words came out with less severity than she’d intended. “You owe me an explanation.” She reminded him.

                “I saved your life—I don’t owe you anything.”

                She flinched back from the resentment in his voice. Then she rounded on him angrily. “Yeah, you saved my life, but a whole lot of good that did Hattie. Besides, you _promised._ ”

                Her cousin’s name seemed to distress Edward, but he held firm. “Bella, you hit your head—you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

                Her temper flared, and she glared defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with my head.”

                He glared back. “What do you want from me, Bella?”

                “I want to know the truth,” she said. “I want to know why I’m walking around perfectly fine and Hattie is unconscious in a hospital bed. I want to know why I’m lying for you.”

                “What do you think happened?” Edward asked, voice only slightly softer.

                It came out in a rush.

                “All I know was you weren’t anywhere near me—Tyler didn’t see you, either, so don’t tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush Hattie and I both—and it didn’t. And your hands left dents in the side of it—and you left a dent in the other car, and you’re not hurt at all—and the van should’ve smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…” she could hear how crazy it sounded and couldn’t continue on in that strain. She was so mad, so scared, that she could feel tears filling her eyes. She tried to force them back, but she kept remembering Hattie.

                He was staring at her, half-incredulous, but also with such a tender, heartbreaking look that she couldn’t stand it.

                Still, he said, defensively: “You think I lifted a van off you?”

                His tone questioned her sanity, but it only made her more suspicious. It was a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.

                She nodded once, jaw tight.

                “Nobody will believe that, you know.” His voice held an edge of derision now.

                “I’m not going to tell anybody.” Each word was said slowly and punctually. She was carefully controlling her anger.

                Surprise flitted across his face. “Then why does it matter?”

                “It matters to me,” she insisted. “I don’t like to lie—so there better be a good reason why I’m doing it.”

                “Can’t you just thank me and get over it?”

                Anger tore through her again and she gave him a look that would kill a lesser man. “Thank you,” she said, sarcastically.

                “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

                “No.”

                “In that case…I hope you enjoy disappointment.”

                They scowled at each other in silence. Bella thought of a dozen different ways to throw Hattie’s condition at him, a thousand ways to try and guilt him into telling her the truth.           She was the first to speak and she tried desperately to keep her focus. She was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

                “Why did you even bother?” she asked, frigidly. “Why did I matter so much more than Hattie?”

                He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable.

                “I don’t know,” he whispered.

                And then he turned his back and walked away.

                She was so angry, it took her a minute until she could move. When she could, she slowly made her way back to the ER and joined her family there.

                Hattie’s fragile body was even more unpleasant up close, and Bella had to swallow thickly as she neared. Charlie looked up as she approached, opening his mouth.

                She put her hands up. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” She assured him sullenly. She was still aggravated.

                “What did the doctor say?”

                “Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home. I’d rather be here with you guys, though.”

                Charlie pulled up a chair for her, pushing her down into it. Beau was dead asleep hunched over Hattie’s legs; the tear tracks were dry across his cheeks now.

                “I was so scared, dad,” Bella told him quietly. She wasn’t used to expressing her emotions like this. “When I saw her laying there.”

                “She’s gonna be alright,” Charlie assured her. “But for the record, you two scared the crap outta me.”

                Bella laughed a little. “So, what’d they say about her?”

                “Well she’s pretty beat up, but nothing severe. A bit of road rash, but most of the blood came from a split on the back of her head. She broke her elbow. And you’re gonna have to drive for a while—her car’s totaled.”

                Bella took it all in with a nod. There had seemed to be so much blood—but in the close quarters, with all the panic that was running through her body, there probably wasn’t nearly as much as she’d thought.

                “Oh, and Bells? You’re gonna have to call Renee.”

                “You _told_ her?!”

                Her mom was hysterical. She had to tell Renee at least thirty times that she was fine—and still her mom begged them to come home, forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment. Her pleas were easier to resist than Bella thought they would be. She was consumed by the mystery Edward presented, and more than a little obsessed with him. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ She wasn’t nearly as eager to escape Forks as she should be, as any sane person would be.

                That night Charlie drove them all home in the cruiser. Beau and Bella were stretched out in the backseat, tired despite the napping they’d done in the hospital. Hattie was tucked in the passenger seat, high as a kite on all the medicine they’d pumped into her.

                Bella took three Tylenols that night and they _did_ ease the pain. She headed up to her loft, alone—Hattie was staying in Beau’s room for the night, for Charlie’s peace of mind. Beau looked awfully funny with his tall frame crunched up on the couch.

                That was the first night Bella dreamt of Edward Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :) If you have any questions, feel free to leave them below and I'll answer as soon as I can.  
> \- The Edward not saving Hattie thing is going to be brought up in at least a few other chapters, but mostly Hattie was hurt to bring her closer to Bella and Beau.  
> \- As for why Hattie didn't just magic herself out of the way--this is an AU where she isn't accustomed to fighting, but has been trained to hide her magic instead.  
> \- And why Edward didn't attack her... it WILL be explained in a future chapter, but it's not really a spoiler. Wizards don't smell like food to vampires (in my head, drinking wizard blood would be like eating flowers...you CAN do it, but it's not usually the tastiest thing). 
> 
> Also, this starts an arch in the story which isn't really that long (about 6 weeks?) but it spans 12 chapters :)  
> I started writing the New Moon portion of this story, and decided to add dates for ease. I wish I had for the Twilight portion because I would frequently forget how long it had been since an event and have to go back and recount!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Follows the storyline of Twilight: 4

_“What does it mean?”_

_“If she told you,” Sam said, “it wouldn’t mean anything.”_

_―[Gregory Scott Katsoulis](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15572398.Gregory_Scott_Katsoulis)_

══════

                _Dear Severus,_

_I thought it pertinent that I let you know I was in an accident. I am fine now, however a bit worse for wear. A vehicle hit me on an icy day. It looked rather dramatic, but truthfully I was only minorly injured._

_There’s a quite a large split on the back of my head, but the true issue is my broken elbow. Because it was a very public event I shall have to heal as a muggle. This will delay my business by at least several weeks._

_I admit it would be comforting to hear from you, as the occurrence has quite shaken me._

_Merry part,_

_Hattie_

—x—

                The weeks that followed were rough, uneasy—and at first, embarrassing, for everyone involved.

                When Hattie came down off the drugs they’d had her on, not only had she been in pain but she’d been heartbroken over the loss of her beloved car. It was totaled. The Swans’ truck, with its heavy, solid frame might’ve been able to withstand the force of Tyler’s van—but her car certainly had not been able to. The whole rear panel was smashed inward and the force of it had shattered her windshields and deployed her airbags.

                When Hattie calmed from that stressor, she couldn’t fathom how Bella had remained unscathed and how she was still standing. Bella had explained that Edward pulled her out of the way and the small girl wracked her brain, but couldn’t remember much. She’d hit her head a _lot_ harder than Bella had, as evidence by the shaved patch on the back of her head, covered with stitches.

                The crash had changed something in Beau, too. He was constantly hovering over Hattie and, to a lesser extent, Bella. Sometimes when Bella came in the house whilst he was asleep she heard him having nightmares and crying their names.

                Bella herself was alright. The ache in her head only lasted a couple of days. They couldn’t quite move on from the effects of the accident so quickly, though. Hattie’s whole arm, from her shoulder to her wrist, was in a cast. She needed help getting dressed, help carrying things, help doing simple things like putting her hair in a ponytail. Bella even took over cooking for the household whilst Hattie was out of commission.

                They all returned to school the following day, though Hattie had to take it pretty slow. She ended up having to go lie down in the nurse’s office when the pain in her head got to be too much.

                To Bella’s dismay, they quickly found themselves at the center of attention the rest of that week. Tyler Crowley was impossible. He followed her around, obsessed with making amends—when he wasn’t bothering Bella, he was bothering Hattie. Beau could be seen telling him off whenever he came too close to the smaller girl, but it didn’t deter him completely.

                Bella tried to convince him that he should just forget about it where she was concerned—especially since nothing had actually happened to her—but he remained insistent. He made a pattern of alternately tailing Bella and Hattie between classes. Somehow, he always managed to catch Hattie when Beau wasn’t around—Bella wondered if Tyler was getting someone to distract her brother.

                He even made a point of sitting at their now crowded lunch table. Mike and Eric were even less friendly toward him than they were towards each other, which made Bella worry they’d gained another unwelcome fan.

                Even Mike and Eric had used the accident to their advantage. Suddenly, whatever Hattie had done to get them off her tail was thrown out the window. They were accosting her after class, helping her carry her books, warming her lunch up for her. They didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

                Nobody seemed concerned about Edward, though Bella tried explaining that he was the hero—he’d pulled her out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. Everyone, even Beau, always commented that they hadn’t even seen him till the van was pulled away.

                Bella wondered to herself why nobody else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving her life. With chagrin, she realized the probable cause—no one else was as aware of Edward as she always was. No one else watched him the way she did.

                Possibly Hattie had seen him, but that did Bella little good. Between the huge hit she’d taken and her proceeding her unconsciousness, Hattie didn’t believe most of her memories in the seconds leading up to the accident. Even if Bella tried to insist, Hattie would likely go along with anything anyone told her.

                Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullens and the Hales sat at the same table as always, eating in that same, slow, peculiar way of theirs. None of them, especially Edward, looked her way anymore.

                When he sat next to her in class, as far away as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of her presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up—skin stretched even whiter over the bones—did Bella wonder if he wasn’t quite as oblivious as he appeared.

                He wished he hadn’t pulled her from the path of Tyler’s van—or perhaps he regretted not saving Hattie, too. There were no other conclusions Bella could come to.

                Bella wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident she’d tried. The last time she’d seen him, outside the ER, they’d both been so _furious._ She was still angry that he wouldn’t trust her with the truth, even though she was keeping her side of the bargain flawlessly. But he had in fact saved her life, no matter how he’d done it. Overnight, the heat of her anger had faded away with the help of her relief at Hattie’s condition. Soon she was awed into immense gratitude.

                He was already seated by the time Bella got to biology, laying Hattie’s books on her lab table. She sat down, expecting him to turn toward her. He showed no sign that he realized she was there.

                “Hello, Edward,” she’d greeted pleasantly, trying to show that she was going to behave herself.

                But he just turned his head a fraction of an inch and nodded once, without meeting her gaze. Then he looked the other way.

                That was the last contact she had with him, though he was there—a foot away—every day.

                She watched him sometimes, unable to stop herself—from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or the parking lot. Every day his golden eyes grew predictably darker. But in class, she gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward her.

                She was miserable, and her dreams of him continued.

                Despite her misery, her newfound place in Forks was not quite as disheartening as she’d feared. She had a routine, a handful of friends. She was growing ever closer to Hattie, even. (This was no doubt aided by the fact that Bella helped dress the girl every day. It was hard not to bond with someone whose bra you clasped each morning.)

                She lied a little bit to Renee, and despite the tenor of her emails her mother assumed Bella was depressed. She called a few times, worried, and when Bella didn’t show any signs of depression Renee tried to pester Beau about it. Even he couldn’t fully convince her that Bella was happy, though he tried.

                Mike, at least, seemed pleased by the obvious coolness between Bella and her lab partner. He grew more confident each day, sitting on the edge of her table to talk before biology class started. He ignored Edward as completely as Edward ignored them.

—x—

                Those weeks with her cast on and the stitches in her head were the hardest for Hattie. She’d never had to endure an injury this long—the folly of living closely with muggles. Her vulnerability scared her. She hated relying on her cousins and the people surrounding them for anything.

                Bella was especially nice about the situation. Hattie still wasn’t entirely comfortable allowing Bella to help her get dressed, but it wasn’t as dreaded as it had been the first day when she _realized._ Hattie could probably figure out how to dress herself with magic, but it would be suspicious. After all, she could barely move her casted arm (the entire point of the cast) so while she might be able to wiggle a top on, there was no way she could get a bra on.

                Beau tried hard to make sure Hattie was never alone, but somehow that Crowley boy kept managing to drag him off and take advantage of the situation. Hattie had told Mike and Eric off during her first week of classes and it had worked thus far, but now they were back in full force.

                It was with relief that now, they split their time between her and Bella, so at least Hattie got a reprieve.

                After the accident she’d sent out her letters to her friends, with new additions to Severus about her current state of being. She, admittedly, complained about having to put on the show of healing the muggle way. With X-Rays of her elbow every two weeks to ensure she didn’t need surgery, she couldn’t very well heal herself within the cast. Thus, she put up with the aches and pains that went along with a broken elbow.

                It was only when Jacob started calling her nonstop that she realized she should talk to him, too. Apparently, Charlie had confided his worries in Billy, who informed Jacob, who panicked.

                He called her the second night after her accident, talking rapidly. She’d assured him over and over that she was fine now, in very little pain (a white lie—she’d taken a pain-relieving potion). That was the first night she fell asleep on the phone with him.

                It certainly wasn’t the last.

                The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. The other students were disappointed at never having gotten to stage their giant snowball fight. Hattie would be happy if she never saw snow again. Now that the weather was getting warmer, Mike was continuing to plan his beach trip, which Hattie was very excited about. She hoped to surprise Jacob, whom she hadn’t seen in entirely too long.

                Bella complained to her on the first Tuesday in March about a tradition she’d just been informed of—the girl’s choice spring dance, which was in two weeks. Hattie had never been to a dance herself, but imagining the night left her a little breathless…and irritated about being in a cast.

                Clearly, though, Bella wasn’t planning on going. She told Hattie it was tempting fate, trying to dance with as clumsy as she was.

                Hattie wanted to go, and badly. She loved to dance, and the excuse to dress up in a pretty dress and be escorted by a handsome boy…it was like a scene out of a movie.

                She wanted to feel like a princess, even if only for one night.

                But Hattie resigned herself to staying home that night. She didn’t want to lead anybody on, _especially_ not one of her unwelcome fanboys—and there was nobody at Forks High School that she wanted to go to the dance with.

—x—

                Bella was irritated.

                She should’ve known this would happen to her. Jessica had called her on Tuesday seeking permission to ask Mike to the dance.

                “You’re sure you don’t mind? You weren’t planning on asking him?” Jessica persisted, when Bella told her she didn’t mind in the least.

                “No, Jess, I’m not going,” Bella assured her. Dancing was, after all, out of her range of abilities.

                “It will be really fun.” Jessica’s attempt to convince Bella was half-hearted. (Bella suspected that Jessica enjoyed her inexplicable popularity more than her actual company.)

                “You have fun with Mike,” Bella encouraged, instead of answering.

                But the next day at school, Jessica wasn’t her normal gushing self. She was silent as they walked together between classes, and at lunch she sat as far away from Mike as possible. Mike, too, was unusually quiet.

                Bella found out why in biology—the uncomfortable look on Mike’s face changed to resolution as they took up their usual positions. Bella was in her seat and he was perched on the edge of her desk.

                “So,” Mike began. Even with his resolved look, his gaze was on the floor. “Jessica asked me to go to the spring dance.”

                “That’s great!” Bella said, trying to emulate Hattie’s chirpy, cheerful tone. “You’ll have a lot of fun with Jessica.”

                “Well…” he floundered a bit, clearly not happy with Bella’s response. “I told her I had to think about it.”

                “Why would you do that?” Bella let disapproval color her tone, though she was relieved he hadn’t given her an absolute ‘no’.

                “I was wondering if…well, if you might be planning to ask me.”

                Bella paused, hating the wave of guilt that swept through her. Why couldn’t he just leave her be? She saw, from the corner of her eye, Edward’s head tilt reflexively toward them.

                “Mike,” she said slowly. “I really think you should tell her yes.”

                “Did you already ask someone?” Mike asked. Did Edward notice how Mike’s eyes flickered in his direction?

                “No,” Bella assured him quickly. “I’m not going to the dance at all.”

                “Why not?” Mike demanded.

                Bella really didn’t want to get into the hazards that danced presented, so she quickly wracked her brain for a new plan.

                “I’m going to Seattle that Saturday,” she explained carefully. She needed to get out of town, anyways—Hattie’s book collection had been devoured and Bella needed some books that were more her speed. Plus, it might be nice to splurge on some new clothes…ones more fit for Forks’ climate. Saturday started to look like the perfect time to go—she actually found herself looking forward to it. (And cursing that Hattie’s car had been totaled, as she cringed to think of the gas mileage her truck got.)

                “Is Hattie going with you?” Mike asked. Now that he was disappointed, he was looking for a new plan. One that _still_ didn’t include Jessica.

                Bella began to feel a little sorry for her friend.

                “I don’t know,” Bella answered, wincing at throwing Hattie under the bus. “She hasn’t decided yet. But you really shouldn’t make Jess wait much longer—it’s rude.”

                Mike walked dejectedly back to his seat and Bella fumbled to get her phone out. She should at least warn Hattie about the possible oncoming puppy.

                **Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**     

**Bell-Bell: mike alert.**

**i told him i was going to seattle on saturday.**

**he might ask u hattie.**

**Hattie-Dearest: what?**

**why me**

**Bell-Bell: idk. jessica wants to go with him though**

**so turn him down pls**

**Beauregard: why r u going to seattle?**

**Bell-Bell: i panicked**

**Hattie-Dearest: bella EC is reading over your shoulder**

                Bella clicked her screen off, face turning red. She sighed, turning to face him resignedly.

                He was staring at her curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.

                She stared back—unsurprised, since she had warning. She expected him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into her eyes. There was no question of her looking away. Bella’s hands began to shake.

                “Mr. Cullen?” the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question Bella hadn’t heard.

                “The Krebs Cycle,” Edward responded, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr. Banner.

                Bella looked down at her book as soon as his eyes released hers, trying to find her place. Cowardly as ever, she shifted her hair over her shoulder to hide her face. She couldn’t believe the rush of emotions running through her—just because he’d happened to look at her for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. She couldn’t let him have this level of influence over her—it was pathetic.

                More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.

                She tried very hard to not to notice him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible, at least not let him know she was aware of him. When the bell rang at last, she turned to get her things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.

                “Bella?” His voice shouldn’t have been so familiar to her, as if she’d known the sound of it all her life rather than just a few short weeks.

                She turned slowly, unwillingly. In her peripheral, she noted that Mike had approached Hattie—she felt guilty, but at least Hattie would have someone to take her to gym.

                Her expression was weary when she finally turned to him. She didn’t want to feel what she _knew_ she would when she looked at his too-perfect face. When she looked at him, his expression was unreadable. He didn’t say anything.

                “What? Are you speaking to me again?” she finally asked, an unintentional note of petulance in her voice.

                His lips twitched, fighting a smile. “No, not really,” he admitted.

                “Then what do you want, Edward?” she asked, keeping her eyes closed. It was easier to talk to him that way. “I should be saving my cousin from Mike.”

                “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere. “I’m being very rude, I know. But it’s better this way, really.”

                She opened her eyes. His face was very serious.

                “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, guarded.

                “It’s better if we’re not friends,” he explained. “Trust me.”

                Her eyes narrowed. She’d heard that before—but unlike then, now she had other friends to rely on. Still, it stung a little. She was sullen when she answered.

                “It’s too bad you didn’t figure that out earlier,” she hissed through her teeth. “You could’ve saved yourself all this regret.”

                “Regret?” The word, and Bella’s tone, had caught him off-guard. “Regret for what?”

                “For not just letting that stupid van squish me.” Bella paused. “For not saving Hattie, instead.”

                He was astonished. He stared at her in disbelief.

                When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. “You think I regret saving your life?”

                “I can’t think of any other reason for you to act this way,” she snapped.

                “You don’t know anything.” He was definitely mad.

                She turned her head sharply away from him, clenching her jaw against all the wild accusations she wanted to hurl at him. She gathered her books, then stood to head for the door. It might be too late to save Hattie from Mike, but at least she could sweep dramatically from the room…but of course she caught the toe of her boot on the door jamb and dropped her books.

                Bella stood there for a moment, debating leaving them there. Then she sighed and bent to pick them up.

                He was already there; he’d already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to her, his face hard.

                “Thank you,” she said icily.

                His eyes narrowed. “You’re welcome,” he retorted.

                She straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked off to gym without looking back.

                Gym was brutal. Hattie had sat on the sidelines these long few weeks, unable to participate. Bella’s team never passed her the ball, but without Hattie there was one less person to cover Bella and Beau’s mistakes. To make things worse, every glimpse of Hattie’s embarrassed face—no doubt caused by Mike’s earlier attentions—threw Bella back into her irritation at Edward. She tried to concentrate on her feet, but he kept creeping back into her thoughts just when she needed balance. Thus, she fell, competing with Beau for number of falls per class.

                It was a relief, as always, to leave. She changed at high speed and rushed out to her truck, leaving Beau to help Hattie today. She felt a little guilty about it, but she wanted to be alone for a moment.

                She almost had a heart attack when she rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of her truck. Then she realized it was just Eric. She started walking again.

                “Hey, Eric,” she called.

                “Hi, Bella.”

                “What’s up?” she said as she unlocked the door. She wasn’t paying attention to the uncomfortable edge in his voice.

                “Hattie’s not with you?” he asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

                “Ah, no,” Bella turned to him. “She’s coming out with Beau.”

                Eric nodded, still seeming uncomfortable. Then his next words caught Bella by surprise. “I was wondering if, uh, you would go to the spring dance with me?”

                His voice broke on the last word, and Bella was sure she was not the Swan he meant to ask. She was just in the right place at the wrong time.

                “I thought it was girls’ choice,” she said, diplomatically, instead of calling him out.

                “Well, yeah,” he admitted, shamefaced.

                She covered her composure and tried to make her voice warm. “Thank you for asking me, but I’m going to be in Seattle that day. Besides—I don’t think you want to go with _me_ , anyways.”

                He looked at her sheepishly and Bella knew that she was right. Eric had always had more of an attraction to her smaller, more athletic cousin.

                Sure enough, when Hattie and Beau approached, he asked her. Bella had to give him props—he had guts. Beau was even taller than Eric and asking Hattie couldn’t have been easy with her two cousins on either side of her.

                But she, also, turned him down. “I’m really sorry, Eric. I—I’ve got a date already.”

                Bella and Beau gave her identical, startled glances as Eric slouched away. Bella could only think that, perhaps Mike had used his opportunity well…perhaps he had convinced their cousin.

                She heard a low chuckle as they sat there gaping at Hattie. Edward was walking past the truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. Bella yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly.

                She would’ve jerked right out of the parking spot, but Beau was helping Hattie climb in and it seemed he moved at a snail’s pace. When they finally got in, she reversed out into the aisle, revving the engine loudly. Edward, two spaces down, slid out smoothly in front of them, cutting her off. He stopped there—to wait for his family. She could see the five of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria.

                Bella strongly considered taking out the rear of his stupid, shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. In her rearview mirror, she could see a line of cars beginning to form. Directly behind them, Tyler Crowley (in his newly acquired used Sentra) was waving wildly. Bella was too aggravated to acknowledge him.

                “Man, what a dick,” Beau snorted. “Oh, goody.”

                There was a knock on the passenger window. Beau rolled his eyes—still unfriendly toward the boy who’d nearly killed Bella and Hattie—but cranked the window down part way.

                “I’m sorry, Tyler, I’m stuck behind Cullen.” Bella explained. Her voice was annoyed—clearly, the holdup wasn’t _her_ fault.

                “Oh, I know, I just wanted to ask you something while we’re trapped here.” He grinned.

                This could not be happening.

                “Will one of you ask me to the spring dance?” he continued.

                “I’m not going to be in town,” Bella said, sharply. She tried to remember that it wasn’t his fault Mike and Eric had already used up her patience quota for the day.

                “Yeah, Mike said that,” Tyler admitted.

                “Then why—”

                He shrugged. “I was hoping you were just letting him down easy.”

                Okay, it was completely his fault.

                “I really am going out of town,” she said, trying to work down her irritation. (It wasn’t working.)

                “Fair,” he said, grinning again. His eyes zoomed in on Hattie. “How about you, Hattie?”

                The girl in question was blushing hard again, avoiding his eyes. “I sort of…have a date already,” she told him.

                “That’s cool,” he decided after a moment. “We still have prom.”

                And before either of them could respond, he was walking back to his car. Beau was attempting to strangle the boy with his eyes, and Bella could feel the shock on her face. She looked forward, seeing all of the Cullens sliding into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward’s eyes were on Bella. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he’d heard every word Tyler had said.

                Her foot twitched toward the gas pedal…one little bump wouldn’t hurt any of them, just that glossy silver paint job. She revved the engine.

                But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away.

                As they drove home, slowly, Bella tried to take her mind off the situation. Muttering to herself wouldn’t help anything. She rounded on Hattie, sitting between her and Beau on the bench seat.

                “Mike asked you out?” she demanded.

                Hattie looked up from her phone, confused. She was texting ★JAKE★.

                “Yeah, he did,” she admitted.

                “And you actually said yes?” Beau sounded sick. “He’s like an overgrown puppy.”

                “Hey, if she likes him, then let her be happy,” Bella argued. “Jeez, Beau.”

                “What are you guys talking about?” Hattie asked. The dark-haired girl’s eyes were confused. “Is this about my date? Because I am not going with Mike. I said no.”

                “Then…who?” Bella’s voice was thoughtful, eyebrows scrunched together.

                Hattie looked away, cheeks red. Then she raised her phone a little in her hand. “I haven’t actually asked him yet,” she told Bella. “But I think he will say yes.”

                “Well, then, what are you waiting for?” Beau urged. There was a sense of realization in his eyes. “Ask him.”

                “Easy for you to say,” snorted Hattie derisively.

                Bella looked back and forth between the duo, lost. She’d been so caught up lately with her own misery—and, yes, her obsession—that perhaps she’d missed something.

                Her brother’s cheeks were rosy pink and he looked away, out the passenger window. “That’s different.”

                “It is not,” Hattie protested. “You are just a chicken.”

                “She doesn’t even look at me anymore.”

                “Maybe she thinks you don’t like her,” Hattie offered. “You should ask her. I am pretty sure nobody else has.”

                “I was thinking about asking Angela instead,” Beau said. “I just really get the feeling Edythe doesn’t like me, so I’m going to give her space.”

                “Edythe Cullen?” Bella asked sharply. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

                Beau nodded shyly. “Yeah, she’s in my Chemistry class. We haven’t talked…like, at all.”

                “He has a crush on her,” Hattie said distractedly. She was typing out a text to ★JAKE★.

                “I do not.” Beau denied, but the heat on his face told Bella differently. “Besides, even if I did, she doesn’t know I exist. Or she hates me. Either way, not a good way to start a relationship. Anyways, Angela is cute—and she’s tall, like me. Who knows, we might have a lot of fun together.”

                Hattie hummed. “Well, she does seem to like you,” she amended.

                Bella felt…weird. They got home, and as was tradition, spread their books across the table. They always studied together after school. One of them, lately Bella (because Beau couldn’t cook, and Hattie was unable to currently) would cook dinner. When Charlie got home, they’d all dine together, chatting idly about their day.

                But Bella felt a little left out. Beau had always been her best friend, the person she was closest to in the world. Now, it seemed, she’d been so full of herself that she didn’t even know what was going on in his life.

                Jessica called her that evening, jubilant. Mike had caught her after school and accepted her invitation. (Bella still felt guilty that Jessica wasn’t just his second choice, she was his third, but she pretended to be happy for her friend.) They celebrated briefly, but Jessica had to go—she wanted to call Angela and Lauren and tell them.

                Bella suggested, with casual, sly innocence, that maybe Angela could ask Beau. Her brother’s face stared up at her in a mixture of horror, distress, and excitement. Then, Bella decided perhaps Lauren, a standoffish girl who always ignored them at the lunch table, could ask Tyler. And McKayla, Mike’s brother and another acquaintance of theirs, could ask Eric. Jess thought this was a great idea. Now that she was sure about Mike, she actually sounded sincere when she said she wished Bella would go to the dance.

                Bella gave her Seattle excuse, which felt firmer and firmer each time she used it.

                When she hung up, she tried to focus on dinner. Dicing the chicken especially—she didn’t need to end up in the emergency room again. Hattie and Beau were tittering in the background about an art project they were working on.

                But Bella’s head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if they weren’t friends?

                Her stomach twisted as she realized what that meant. He must see how absorbed she was by him; he must not want to lead her on…so they couldn’t even be friends...because he wasn’t interested in her at all.

                Of course he wasn’t interested in her, she thought angrily, her eyes stinging. She wasn’t interesting—and he was.

                Interesting…and brilliant…and mysterious…and perfect…and beautiful…and possibly able to life full-sized vans with one hand.

                Well that was fine. She could leave him alone. She _would_ leave him alone. She would spend more time with her siblings—her family, rather—and enjoy her time in Forks as much as possible. Then, when she graduated, she’d go to a university somewhere sunny. Maybe Hawaii. She forced her thoughts onto sunny beaches and palm trees as Beau began clearing the table.

                Charlie ruffled Hattie’s hair when he came in and cheerfully greeted them all. Bella had noticed recently that he had a huge soft spot for his niece, diligently taking time off work to run her to appointments. He was even handling all the insurance stuff for her car. He’d gotten it towed away for her, sold to a scrap yard for the price of the metal in its body.

                Bella also thought that whatever soft spot he held for Hattie, whatever emotion she made him feel, helped him express himself to his own kids. He’d never been good at it. But Hattie was good practice.

                “So, girls, did you ask anyone to the dance yet?” Charlie asked playfully, then turned to his son. “Beau?”

                Beau spluttered. “N-nobody’s asked me. But I have a feeling Hattie’s friend Angela is going to.”

                “Hattie?” Charlie continued, looking at the smallest of the trio.

                She smiled shyly, looking at him under her eyelashes. She wasn’t blushing when she answered, seeming very assured of herself. “I asked Jake.”

                Bella and Beau’s eyes both snapped to Charlie’s face to see his reaction. He was very protective of his niece. But though the man’s fork paused on its way to his mouth, he seemed otherwise nonplussed.

                “Good for you,” Charlie told her. “That boy likes ya. And he’s a good kid.”

                “You know him?” Bella prompted, shocked. She hadn’t met him, and picturing Hattie bringing home a boy to meet Charlie didn’t compute.

                Charlie grunted. “Mm. Jacob Black. His dad, Billy, sold me your truck. You used to play as kids.”

                Realization dawned on Beau’s face. “Oh man, Jacob Black! I remember him. Bella, you and him made mud pies together!”

                Bella didn’t really remember. The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t put a face to it. She’d gotten good over the years at blocking out her memories of Forks, dreaded as they were. Still, she turned to Hattie, fighting down her surprise.

                “He said yes, then?” Bella asked her cousin. She wondered when Hattie had found time to ask him—probably over text, Bella surmised.

                Charlie chortled. “Of course he said yes. You shoulda seen ‘em at Christmas. He’s head over heels for her.”

                Now Hattie _was_ blushing, giving half-hearted protests. After a few moments of teasing, Charlie finally turned to Bella.

                “So how ‘bout you, Bells?”

                Bella shuffled awkwardly. “Oh, erm…I’m not going to the dance. I think I’m going to go to Seattle for the day instead—if that’s okay?”

                She didn’t really want to ask permission—it set a bad precedence—but it felt rude, so she tacked it on at the end.

                “Why?” he sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn’t offer.

                “Well, I wanted to get a few books—the library here is pretty limited—and maybe look at some clothes.” She had more money than she was used to having, since, thanks to Charlie, she hadn’t had to pay for a car. Even with the way the truck guzzled gas, the trio split the cost given they were carpooling, so it wasn’t that bad.

                “The truck probably doesn’t get very good gas mileage,” Charlie said, unknowingly echoing Bella’s thoughts.

                Bella explained that she knew this already, and she’d make multiple stops along the way as needed. Charlie fretted about her going by herself, then about her possibly getting lost. Then he offered to go with her.

                “That’s alright, Dad,” she said quickly. Hattie and Beau were snickering. Bella reached out and kicked Beau, glaring at him. “I’ll probably just be in dressing rooms all day—it’d be pretty boring for you.”

                Finally, Charlie relented, and Bella sighed in relief. She didn’t want to go against her father’s wishes, so it was easier that he was letting her go.

                Secretly Bella thought he realized that she really didn’t want to go to the dance because of her balance problems. Either way, that was her problem solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10! :) The next chapter is one of my favorite early chapters~ This one is fairly boring compared to it. See you soon! (Thanks for the lovely comments you've been leaving!)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hattie gets her arm looked at by Dr. Cullen  
> \- Hattie muses on the past and we get a little more information about the Wizarding World  
> \- Set during the end of Twilight: 4

_I guess there was a war going on somewhere in the world that night but it wasn't one that could touch us. ―[Meg Rosoff](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/93575.Meg_Rosoff)_

══════

                The following morning, Charlie took Hattie back to the doctor. She’d been going about every two weeks since she broke her elbow because they wanted to be sure it was healing properly. Hattie didn’t care if she had to erase some memories—if, for some reason, they thought she needed surgery, she’d heal her elbow herself.

                Hattie had to miss her first couple of classes, but it was worth it for the brief reprieve of the stupid cast.

                “Good morning, Hattie, Chief Swan,” Dr. Cullen said cheerfully, coming in to the room with a cast saw. This was Hattie’s least favorite part of the whole situation—she didn’t like the blade being anywhere near her extremities, even though logically she knew that it wouldn’t hurt her. “How are we this morning? How’s your head?”

                He was snapping on gloves as he said it, moving to come look at the gash in her head. It was exponentially smaller than the last time he’d seen her, which Hattie knew was because her magic was slowly healing it.

                “We’re doin’ well,” Charlie grunted. He was in his work clothes, since after he dropped her off at school he’d be heading to work as well. “Be better if we could get this cast off today.”

                Dr. Cullen laughed that musical laugh of his. “Well, it looks like the stitches dissolved as they should. We’ll cut this cast off and send her for an X-Ray and we’ll know more.”

                He started up the cast saw, and Hattie made extra sure to stay still. He was a professional, but it was off-putting to see a saw come towards you. And once it touched the cast, she could feel the vibrations up her arm and all the way down her chest.

                To be honest, Hattie knew that today wouldn’t be the day she got to keep the cast off—her elbow ached. There was no way she was fully healed.

                Still, it was a relief to be out of the huge, heavy cast. Her skin soaked up the fresh air, breathing for the first time in two weeks, and Hattie gratefully itched it. She’d been warned not to stick anything in the cast (not that that would’ve been easy anyways), because apparently some people used pencils or rulers to scratch.

                And promptly lost them up in the cast.

                An X-Ray technician took her back and clicked a couple of pictures. Hattie was babying her arm a little. It didn’t hurt as much as the last time, when she had to use her other arm to hold it up—but having to tense her muscles to hold her arm in place still hurt a bit.

                As she’d expected, Dr. Cullen decided to give it another two weeks with the cast. He wrapped it back up for her until, once again, she was immobile. This time she chose a black cast, trying to anticipate what sort of dress she’d be wearing to the dance. Hattie was frustrated that her first high school dance pictures would include the ugly thing.

                “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Dr. Cullen told her, patting her on her good shoulder. “Having the cast back on is probably the last thing you wanted.”

                “It’s not really the most pleasant thing in the world, no,” Hattie agreed. “I can only do so much with one arm.”

                “Hopefully we’ll be able to take it off for good next time.” Dr. Cullen smiled gently, and then he was signing some papers with a flourish. “You’re free to get back to class now, Hattie. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

                Charlie helped her down off the bed and guided her back to the police cruiser. Hattie yawned as she settled in for the short drive.

                She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Between the pain of her elbow and the bulky cast, she could never get comfortable.

                Then there was the fact that it had been five weeks again since she’d gotten word from home. Hattie hadn’t sent anymore letters since the accident, but she’d used her protean coin to send a message. She’d been sorely tempted to use her two-way mirror, but the thought of connecting to Professor’s mirror and possibly putting them both in danger was terrifying to her.

                Professor told her he was busy. He was recruiting people. He could be out of the country, for all she knew—he could be putting himself in dangerous situations and just didn’t have time to think about her.

                Still, Hattie had nightmares. She dreamt of all her friends’ deaths. Luna and Mr. Lovegood laying prone in their tower-like home. Bill and his new bride slain on their honeymoon. The Weasleys’ home, up in flames. Hermione attacked in her muggle hometown.

                She even dreamt of that summer day when Cecelia was born, only in her dream they never got the warning from Professor’s informant. The Death Eaters arrived and slayed them all where they stood—a group of children and their keepers, a generation of young wizards, gone.

                At night, when she couldn’t sleep, Hattie studied the scarce wizarding books she had. Her favorite was Hogwarts, A History, because it was almost like a storybook to her. Hogwarts had never existed in her lifetime, so the book was a fairytale of a magical castle and its’ creators, all long gone. Sometimes while she was reading, she’d be reminded of stories Professor told her about his schooldays with her mother.

                Sometimes, if she fell asleep reading, she’d have wild dreams. Not necessarily bad ones. She dreamt that she was a boy, and all her friends attended Hogwarts with her. They did all sorts of crazy things. Boy-Hattie played a sport on a broomstick called Quidditch, which looked quite fun. Boy-Hattie and Ron flew a car to school once and crash-landed. Boy-Hattie fought a basilisk using only parseltongue and a huge, ruby-encrusted sword. Boy-Hattie fought off a hundred dementors or more, using a patronus cast with a _wand._ Hattie had laughed at that one—no wand magic was strong enough to do something like _that._

                But even in her dreams some things didn’t change. Boy-Hattie watched as Cedric was killed, in a graveyard of all places. He took the body back with him to Hogwarts, refusing to let go of it, grief-shaken. Amos was there, screaming for his dead son. This dream woke Hattie up in tears, and she spent the rest of the night staring at the picture of Cecelia held in her brother’s arms.

                Cedric’s death had been the end of a sort of innocence for Hattie.

                Until then she’d only heard about the war. She knew her parents died in it, along with many of their friends. She’d been told of entire wizarding sects razed to the ground, others only spared when they joined the regime. But the war was a distant worry. It was not on her doorstep. It hadn’t affected her.

                In fact, it wasn’t really a war at all. The dark had won. When she was a child, any rebellion was so tiny it wouldn’t have stood a chance. As she grew she heard rumors of growing rebellions—Wizards First, the Futurists, and even the Order of the Phoenix. Most were wiped out within days of anyone first hearing their name. All rebellions were squashed, and the regime went on their way.

                The Order was different. Back in the day her parents had been part of it. After their death most members were either dead or in hiding. The leader, the former headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was missing. Nobody knew for sure if he was dead or imprisoned or just working in secret. He’d been the one to place Hattie with her relatives.

                Hattie was trained not to ask questions of Professor. The less she asked, the less he had to lie to her. The less she knew, the less danger she was in. Even still there were blanks she couldn’t fill in. Maybe she never would be able to. But even without asking questions, she was a smart girl, and could begin to fill in the blanks.

                Severus was a spy—or so she assumed. She wasn’t sure what he did, or even if he was an active spy whilst she was in his care. But she presumed he’d worked for the regime when he was young. Some nights when he was tired from a long day of her “incessant stupidity”, she could see it in the set of his shoulders. The war had taken a toll on him. His forearm was a mess of scar tissue, where rumor had it anyone in the regime was marked.

                As she got older though it became clear that he was one of the most trusted members of the rebellion. Hattie probably would never know what he did to earn that space, but she’d never forget the first time he took her to meet McGonagall. The woman had embraced Severus desperately, clearly having been under the impression he was lost to the world.

                The adults were careful to keep the horrors of the war from the children. When they were young they were taught magic like a cult religion, and mostly one on one or in small groups. Hattie learned to revere the power she held within her body, to love it. She was taught it was the one thing nobody could ever take from her.

                She was taught it was the single most important secret she would ever keep.

                From the muggles she had little to fear. She could stop even their greatest weapons with the flick of a wrist, erase their memories, disappear entirely before they could even blink. It was an ancient law they abided by, to keep this secret from the mundane world.

                No, it was other wizards she had to be weary of. It was the other wizards that she was _taught_ to fear. It went against her very instincts to turn away from her people. Her magic sang to them, called out—yearned to be among its own kind.

                The first thing all young wizards are taught is how to quiet their magic. Remain undetected. Protect themselves from the regime.

                Cedric had committed the regime’s greatest crime. He was caught with a wand by a Death Eater. Being caught was bad enough, but being caught committing a crime against the regime…

                Nobody could tell Hattie why Cedric’s parents weren’t tracked down, why his entire family wasn’t slaughtered in their homes. Maybe nobody knew. Maybe Cedric died before the regime could peel the information from his mind.

                Whatever the case, the news of his death came to her door two days afterward. There was no body to be recovered. The only reason they even knew he had died was the Diggory Ancestral Tree had blacked his name out.

                This was when the war finally landed on Hattie’s doorstep.

                The news filtered down through the network of allies Hattie and Professor had acquired. It had a spidering effect. Hattie remembered with a dark sort of humor that she knew exactly when each family got the news. Suddenly any communication with them would go dark—responses to letters would take weeks, and were even more encoded than usual. Families brought their children in close, bundled themselves up, prepared for the worst.

                It never got better, really. Families with multiple children were the worst. They worried about becoming a hotspot. The Weasleys worried most of all—with seven children it was a wonder they’d never been investigated.

                Even Professor became grating. He warned her against using magic outside of his home. The regime couldn’t track her, but she—like all young witches trained wandlessly—was powerful. He worried someone would notice her magic and investigate. They had had a huge row about it. She remembered what he said even to this day:

                “Let them die, Hattie. Let the Death Eaters raze them to the ground. Whatever you do, whatever choices you make, you do not show your magic to anyone you are not willing to trust with your life. One day our lives may depend on yours.”

                It had seemed like such an odd thing for him to tell her, and she screamed at him. She could never stand by whilst her people were suffering. She would defend anyone who needed defending, if it were within her power—but that was what he was worried about.

                Sometimes she wondered if that was why he told her about Charlie, if he had somehow subtly convinced her to go to him. Hattie was safer in the United States than any of her friends were back home.

                Hattie sighed as she blinked herself awake, snapping out of whatever laze she’d been in when they pulled into the high school. Maybe she would go to sleep early tonight.

                “Have a good day, Hattie,” Charlie called, waving as he pulled away. “See you tonight!”

                Hattie waved as she walked away. The bell for second period hadn’t rang yet, but by the time she got there, class would be over. Instead, she headed toward the art building for third period.

                When second period let out, after the students had filed into the classroom, she entered and took her usual seat. They were working on pottery this week which was… _exceptionally_ hard with one hand. Hattie usually ended up covering her casted hand with plastic wrap or a plastic bag and using it as a stabilizer.

                “Still in a cast, I see,” Beau’s voice chirped. He plopped down in his seat next to her, looking hilariously spindly with his long legs. “Angela asked me to the dance today.”

                Hattie looked at him tiredly, grinning nonetheless. “Congrats. You said yes?”

                “Yeah,” Beau smiled bashfully. Even though he had a crush on Edythe, he seemed genuinely pleased. “Who knows what’ll come of it, but I’m excited.”

                Ms. Coal called the class to order then and they turned to pay attention to her instructions, sharing a secret smile.

—x—

                Bella’s morning went a little differently.

                When she pulled into the parking lot with Beau, she deliberately parked as far from the silver Volvo as possible. She didn’t want to put herself in the path of too much temptation and wind up owing him a new car.

                Beau departed quickly. He didn’t say why, but by the excited energy that had been running through him all morning, Bella assumed it was to go corral Angela.

                When Bella got out of the cab, she fumbled with her key and it fell into a puddle at her feet (a great start to the day). With a groan, she stooped to grab it, but a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before she could.

                Bella jerked upright. Edward was right next to her, leaning casually against the truck.

                “How do you do that?” she asked, equal parts amazed and irritated.

                “Do what?” He held out the key as he spoke. As she reached for it, he dropped it into her palm.

                “Appear out of thin air.”

                “Bella, it’s not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant.” His voice was quiet as usual—velvet, muted.

                She scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a golden honey color. Then she looked down, needing to reassemble her now-tangled thoughts.

                “Why the traffic jam last night?” she demanded, still looking away. “I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don’t exist, not irritating me to death.”

                “That was for Tyler’s sake, not mine. I had to give him is chance.” Edward snickered.

                “You…” Bella gasped. She couldn’t think of a bad enough word. It felt like the heat of her anger should physically burn him, but he only seemed more amused.

                “And I’m not pretending you don’t exist,” he continued.

                “So, you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler’s van didn’t do the job?”

                Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone.

                “Bella, you are utterly absurd,” he said, his low voice cold.

                Her palms tingled—she wanted badly to hit something. That surprised her, since she was usually a nonviolent person. Instead, she turned her back and started to walk away.

                “Wait,” he called. Bella continued walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was next to her, easily keeping pace.

                “I’m sorry, that was rude,” he said as they walked. Bella ignored him. “I’m not saying it isn’t true,” he continued. “But it was rude to say it, anyway.”

                “Why won’t you leave me alone?” Bella grumbled.

                “I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me,” he chuckled. He seemed to have recovered his good humor.

                “Do you have multiple personality disorder?” she asked severely.

                “You’re doing it again.”

                She sighed. “Fine, then. What did you want to ask?”

                “I was wondering if, a week from Saturday—you know, the day of the spring dance—”

                “Are you trying to be funny?” Bella interrupted, wheeling toward him. Her face got drenched as she looked up at his expression.

                His eyes were wickedly amused. “Will you please allow me to finish?”

                Bella bit her lip and clasped her hands together, interlocking her fingers, so she couldn’t do anything rash.

                “I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride.”

                Bella gaped at him. That was certainly not what she was expecting.

                “What?” she said. She was unsure what he was getting at.

                “Do you want a ride to Seattle?”

                “With who?” she asked, mystified.

                “Myself, obviously.” He enunciated every syllable, as if he thought she was stupid.

                Bella was still stunned. “Why?”

                “Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I’m not sure if your truck can make it.”

                “My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern.” She started to walk again but was too surprised to maintain the same level of anger.

                “But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?” He was matching her pace again.

                “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” _Stupid, shiny Volvo owner,_ she thought contritely.

                “The wasting of finite resources is everyone’s business.”

                “Honestly, Edward.” A chill went through her as she said his name, and she sort of hated it. “I can’t keep up with you. I thought you didn’t want to be my friend.”

                “I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

                “Oh, thanks, now that’s all cleared up.” Her voice was full of heavy sarcasm. She realized abruptly that she had stopped walking again. They were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so she could look more easily at his face—which certainly didn’t help her clarity of thought.

                “It would be more…prudent, for you not to be my friend,” Edward explain, quietly. His voice was heavy. “But I’m tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella.”

                His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered the last sentence, his voice smoldering. Bella had trouble remembering how to breathe.

                “Will you go with me to Seattle?” he asked, still intense.

                She couldn’t speak, so instead she settled for nodding. Edward smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.

                “You really should stay away from me,” he warned. “I’ll see you in class.”

                He turned abruptly and walked back the way they’d came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to update! It's been a busy week for my family. If you liked this chapter, please leave me a comment~ I'll try my best to answer any questions. If you have a question you feel is going to be a spoiler, feel free to message me! 
> 
> On another note, I've decided that I need a heavy edit of a few chapters later in the story (I think 29, 30, possibly 32). I can't say much because it spoils some stuff, but I don't like the logic I've used in it--I mean this IS a drama and I am pretty open to all sorts of drama, but I just didn't like those chapters much. I think that's why I'm having such a hard time with chapter 37, and why I've been stuck on it all week. 
> 
> Chapter 12 follows the book pretty much to a T, not many changes are made, so next time I update you'll get 12 AND 13 (which is one of my favorites). Here's a sneak of 13: 
> 
> "It happened so fast.
> 
> The tall, older boy walked by them, heading out toward the darkened beach. It’d been so long since she felt the presence of magic that when he slid by and she felt the spirit inside of him, a coil of her magic reached toward it. She stiffened—he didn’t notice, he couldn’t, not unless he was a wizard. She was quick to quiet her magic down, pulling it in toward her, all of the rules she had always been taught roiling around in her brain. There was panic, a war waging inside her mind. Be diligent.
> 
> Hattie hadn’t gotten a good enough taste of his aura to be sure, but he felt different from everyone surrounding her.
> 
> He felt like home."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the events of Twilight: 5  
> VERY BY THE BOOK. Sorry :( But I'll be posting Chapter 13 in a minute as a consolation.

_The truth is Balance. Light and dark. We are all necessary parts of the tapestry. ―[Tochi Onyebuchi](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7324271.Tochi_Onyebuchi)[](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7324271.Tochi_Onyebuchi)_

══════

                **Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**Bell-Bell: edward cullen just asked to drive me to seattle**

**Beauregard: ?????**

**Bell-Bell: ikr? you there hattie?**

**Hattie-Dearest: barely.**

**in the waiting room**

**why did he ask you that?**

**Beauregard: maybe hes going to kidnap u**

**hes always staring at u**

**maybe hes secretly a murderer**

**Hattie-Dearest: lol I hope not**

**oh shoot g2g**

**dr cullen is here**

—x—

                All throughout the day there were whispers about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, which meant that Mike’s beach trip was finally going to be possible. Even though the weather was still going to be kind of chilly for a beach trip, Hattie was excited about it.

                Angela was in a bubblier mood than usual, acting more like Jessica and her friends than her normal self. Apparently, all you had to do to bring her out of her shell was force her to ask a boy to a dance. Hattie didn’t mind though—it was nice seeing her opening up, and it was fun to think of her best non-magical, non-related friend going out with her cousin.

                When Angela wasn’t chatting about the upcoming dance, Beau was. It seemed he was equally excited as her friend.

                Word had gotten around that Hattie had a date, which meant that everyone was trying to figure out who it was. Hattie finally fessed up to Angela as they walked to lunch.

                “You don’t know him,” she said, a little embarrassed. “He doesn’t go here.”

                “Oh?” Angela pried playfully. “An older boy?”

                “No, no, nothing like that—he goes to school on the reservation.”

                “Oooh,” Angela knocked shoulders with Hattie. “Sounds exciting. What’s his name? How did you meet him?”

                “He’s called Jacob,” Hattie explained. “My uncle’s friends with his dad. We actually met on a fishing trip, but he’s super sweet. He made me this,” she added, touching the headband she always wore in her hair.

                “He totally loves you,” Angela gushed. “Why don’t you ever talk about him?”

                “What is there to talk about?” Hattie asked confusedly. “I have not seen him since Christmas.”

                Beau fell into step beside them. “So, how’re we feeling about the beach trip? Yes? It’s going to be cold.”

                Just like that Angela’s prying was shut down as she stumbled over her words. Maybe she liked Beau a little more than Hattie had assumed—hopefully she didn’t get hurt if Beau chose to act on his crush.

                That would be a hard situation for her.

                They made it to the cafeteria and Beau and Angela joined the line. Hattie was still in the habit of bringing her own lunch, but she asked Beau to buy her a soda, something she didn’t usually indulge in—but she needed the caffeine today.

                Bella was already sitting down, moping. Hattie had no idea why, but Bella seemed to mope a lot lately.

                “So,” Hattie said conspiratorially. “We’re friends with Cullen now, are we?”

                Bella glanced up in relief when she saw Hattie. “What do you mean?”

                “Our messages this morning.”

                The other girl nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “Yeah, I guess so.”

                Hattie leaned in toward her. “Are we going to talk about it?”

                Beau plopped down next to Hattie, across from Bella. He seemed immediately in on the conversation, even though he’d just walked up—maybe they were all on the same wavelength, or maybe it had just been on his mind. “Yeah, what’s up with him? Does he have multiple personality disorder or something?”

                Bella chuckled. “Apparently not, though I asked him the same thing. He’s so…strange.”

                “We gathered that,” Beau made a ‘continue on’ motion. “Any particular examples?”

                Bella traced the mouth of her lemonade bottle with her pinky, a habit Hattie had noticed she did when she was deep in thought or nervous.

                “He keeps telling me we shouldn’t be friends,” she whispered. More people were gathering at their table and she wanted the conversation to stay private. “He even warned me I should stay away from him. But in the same breath, he tells me he can’t stay away from me anymore? How weird is that?”

                “Weird,” Hattie agreed.

                “Major weird,” Beau amended.

                “It’s like he’s waiting for you to decide, almost,” Hattie was thinking aloud now. “What are you thinking?”

                Then Jessica butted in, giggling. “Umm, Bella? Edward Cullen is staring at you again. I wonder why he’s sitting alone today.”

                The conspiring trio snapped to attention, searching out said Cullen. Sure enough, there he was—at an empty table across the cafeteria from where he normally sat. He was smiling crookedly, and once he’d caught Bella’s eyes, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for her to come join him.

                As Bella stared in disbelief, Beau and Hattie shared another, knowing glance.

                “Does he mean you?” Jessica asked. Hattie rolled her eyes in disdain at the insulting astonishment in her voice.

                “Maybe he needs help with his biology homework,” Bella muttered to the girl. But she glanced at her siblings with wide, confused eyes. “I should go see what he wants…I’ll text you guys.”

                They stared at her as she left the table, walking away. Jessica was gaping with open jealousy, which gave Hattie a sour taste in her mouth.

                She really didn’t like that girl.

                Beau and Hattie watched Bella hover behind a chair for a moment. The duo had a quick exchange, and then Bella sat down.

                Hattie wish she could use magic here without it being obvious—she really wanted to hear what was going on. The Cullens were an interest to her due to their crazy auras. Alas, she’d just have to wait for Bella to recount it to them.

                Beau leaned toward Hattie and whispered to her. “Maybe now her obsession with him will have an outlet.”

                Hattie shoved him gently with her good arm, laughing. “Like you’re one to talk!”

—x—

                “This is different,” Bella finally managed to say, after sitting across for him for a long moment.

                “Well…” Edward paused. Then, the rest of his words seem to flow out of him in a rush. “I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.”

                What a bizarre answer. She waited for it to make sense, or for him to say something that would make sense. The seconds ticked by.

                “You know I don’t have any idea what you mean,” she eventually pointed out.

                “I know.” He smiled again, and then changed the subject. “I think your family is annoyed that I stole you.”

                Bella felt warmth blossom in her chest but decided to play along. “They’ll survive.” She could feel their stares, anyhow—she was sure they’d have plenty of questions later.

                “I may not give you back, though,” Edward said, with a wicked glint in his eyes.

                Bella gulped. For some reason, his statement sent butterflies through her stomach.

                He laughed. “You look worried.”

                “No,” she said, but ridiculously, her voice shook. “Surprised, actually…what brought this all on?”

                “I told you—I got tired of staying away from you. So, I’m giving up.” He was still smiling, but his ochre eyes were serious.

                “Giving up?” she repeated, in confusion.

                “Yes—giving up trying to be good. I’m just going to do what I want now and let the chips fall where they may.” His smile faded away as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.

                Bella shook her head. She imprinted the words into her mind, wondering what her siblings would think about it. Or—her brother, and her cousin. “You lost me again,” she told him truthfully.

                That breathtaking crooked smile made an appearance again.

                “I always say too much when I’m talking to you—that’s one of the problems.”

                “Don’t worry—I don’t understand any of it,” Bella told him wryly.

                “I’m counting on that.”

                “So…in plain English, are we friends now?” _We’re friends with Cullen now, are we?_ Hattie had asked. It was a question Bella wanted answers to, too.

                “Friends…” Edward mused, dubious.

                “Or not,” she muttered.

                This made him grin. “Well, we can try, I suppose. But I’m warning you now that I’m not a good friend for you.” Something in his eyes told her that his warning was true.

                “You say that a lot,” she noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in her stomach. She worked hard to keep her voice steady.

                “Yes,” Edward agreed. “Because you’re not listening to me. I’m still waiting for you to believe it. If you’re smart, you’ll avoid me.”

                Bella narrowed her eyes. “I think you’ve made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too.”

                He smiled, apologetically.

                “So, as long as I’m being…not smart, we’ll try to be friends?” she struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.

                “That sounds about right.”

                Bella looked at her hands, wrapped around her lemonade bottle. She wasn’t sure what to say now.

                “What are you thinking?” Edward asked, curiously.

                She looked up at his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.

                “I’m trying to figure out what you are.”

                His jaw tightened, but somehow he kept his smile in place.

                “Are you having any luck with that?” he asked, with manufactured offhandedness.

                “Not too much,” she admitted.

                Edward chuckled. “What are your theories?”

                Bella blushed. To be honest, she had been vacillating between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers for the last month.  She wasn’t going to own up to that, though.

                “Won’t you tell me?” he asked, his head tilted to one side with a shockingly tempting smile.

                Still, she shook her head. “Too embarrassing.”

                “That’s really frustrating, you know,” he complained.

                “No,” Bella quickly disagreed, her eyes narrowing. “I can’t imagine why that would be frustrating at all—just because someone refuses to tell you what they’re thinking, even if all the while they’re making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night, wondering what they could possibly mean…now, why would that be frustrating?”

                Edward grimaced.

                “Or better,” Bella continued, on a roll now. The pent-up annoyance was flowing freely. “Say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things—from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day, to treating you like a pariah the next, and never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating.”

                “You’ve got a bit of a temper, don’t you?”

                “I don’t like double-standards.”

                They stared at each other, unsmiling.

                He glanced over Bella’s shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.

                “What?”

                “Your boyfriend seems to think I’m being unpleasant to you—he’s debating whether or not to come break up our fight.” He snickered again.

                “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Bella said, frostily. “But I’m sure you’re wrong anyways.”

                “I’m not. I told you, most people are easy to read.”

                “Except me, of course.”

                “Yes. Except for you,” Edward agreed. Then, unexpectedly, “You and your family. I wonder why that is.”

                His eyes turned brooding, like he was debating the very nature of her family. She had to look away at the intensity of his stare. Bella concentrated on unscrewing the lid of her lemonade.

                She took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.

                “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, distractedly.

                “No.” She didn’t feel like mentioning her stomach was already full—of butterflies. “You?” she asked, staring at the empty table before him.

                “No, I’m not hungry.”

                Bella didn’t understand the expression on his face—it was like he was enjoying a private joke.

                “Can you do me a favor?” She asked, after a second of hesitation.

                Edward looked suddenly wary. “That depends on what you want.”

                “It’s not much,” she assured him. He waited, guarded but curious. “I just wonder…if you could warn me beforehand, the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I’m prepared.”

                Bella looked at her lemonade bottle as she spoke, tracing the lid with her pinkie finger.

                “That sounds fair.” He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when she looked up.

                “Thanks,” she responded. She felt somehow a little lighter.

                “Then can I have one answer in return?” he demanded.

                “One.” Bella conceded.

                “Tell me one theory.”

                _Oops._ “Not that one.”

                “You didn’t qualify, you just promised one answer,” Edward reminded her.

                “And you’ve broken promises yourself,” she retorted.

                “Just one theory—I won’t laugh.”

                “Yes, you will.” If she was positive about anything, it was that.

                He looked down, and then glanced up through his long black lashes, is ochre eyes scorching. “Please?” he breathed, leaning toward her.

                Bella’s blinked, her mind suddenly going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that? She shook herself, a little dazed.

                “Please tell me just one little theory.” His eyes were still smoldering.

                “Um, well, injected with a super-serum?” Bella wondered if he was a hypnotist, too—or was she just a hopeless pushover?

                He scoffed. “That’s not very creative.”

                “I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve got,” Bella said, a little miffed.

                “You’re not even close,” he teased.

                “No spiders?”

                “Nope.”

                “And no radioactivity?”

                “None.”

                “Dang,” she sighed, all her super-hero theories debunked.

                “Kryptonite doesn’t bother me, either,” Edward chuckled.

                “You’re not supposed to laugh, remember?”

                He struggled to compose his face.

                “I’ll figure it out eventually,” Bella warned him.

                His face was serious again. “I wish you wouldn’t try.”

                “Because…?” she prompted.

                “What if I’m not the superhero?” he asked, and his face was playful, but his eyes were impenetrable. “What if I’m the bad guy?”

                Several things he’d hinted at suddenly fell into place. “Oh,” she said. “I see.”

                Abruptly, his face was severe—as if he were afraid he’d accidentally said too much. “Do you?”

                “You’re dangerous?” Bella guessed.

                Her pulse quickened intuitively as she realized the truth of her own words. Edward was dangerous. He’d been trying to tell her that all along.

                But he just looked at her, his eyes full of some incomprehensible emotion.

                “But not bad,” Bella whispered. “No, I don’t believe that you’re bad.”

                “You’re wrong.” His voice was almost inaudible, and he looked down. Seemingly without thinking about it, he stole the lid to her lemonade bottle, spinning it between his fingers. Bella just stared at him, wondering why she didn’t feel afraid. He meant what he was saying—that much was obvious.

                But she just felt anxious, on edge…and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way she always felt toward him.

                “You saved me,” Bella reminded him.

                “But Hattie…” Edward’s eyes were haunted. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Bella was struck by the thought that this was the first time he’d admitted—he could’ve saved her, but he didn’t.

                “Hattie’s fine,” she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

                He stayed silent this time. The silence lasted until Bella noticed the cafeteria was nearly empty. Her heart quickened, feeling guilty; she hoped Hattie had made it to class okay.

                “We’re going to be late,” she said, jumping to her feet. Edward stayed seated.

                “I’m not going to class today.” He was twirling the lid so fast it was a blur.

                “Why not?”

                “It’s healthy to ditch class now and then.” He smiled up at her, but his eyes were still troubled.

                “Well, I’m going,” Bella said, too much of a coward to get caught. When he said goodbye to her, she hesitated, torn—but the first bell sent her scurrying out the door.

                So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised.

                She was lucky that Mr. Banner wasn’t in the room yet when she arrived. Mike was staring at her, looking resentful. Bella also noticed that Hattie’s eyes were on her—but her cousin just seemed curious.

                When Mr. Banner explained the lesson to them, Bella regretted not joining Edward immediately. Even though she couldn’t possibly see it, she imagined she could see the tiny, glinting barb in Mr. Banner’s hands. Her stomach flipped.

                He began at Mike’s table and asked the blond boy for his hand. Bella winced, trying not to look, but she was caught now—like she was watching a train wreck. Her teacher jabbed the barb into the tip of Mike’s middle finger.

                _Oh no._

                Clammy moisture broke out across her forehead.

                He was still speaking, still demonstrating the lab—when he squeezed Mike’s finger till the blood flowed, Bella swallowed convulsively. Her stomach heaved.

                Her ears were ringing, and she closed her eyes, placing her cheek against her lab table. She tried to use the cool surface to hang on to her consciousness. She could hear the squeals, giggles, and complaints of her classmates all around her. Bella breathed slowly, in and out.

                “Bella, are you alright?” Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to her head and he sounded alarmed.

                “I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner,” she answered weakly. She was afraid to lift her head.

                “Are you feeling faint?”

                “Yes, sir,” Bella replied, kicking herself internally for not ditching when she had the chance.

                “Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?” he called.

                Mike ended up volunteering—he seemed eager, putting his arm around her waist and dragging hers over his shoulder. Bella couldn’t even complain, leaning heavily against him n the way out of the classroom.

                He towed her slowly across campus. When they rounded the corner of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four, she stopped.

                “Just let me sit for a minute, please?” Bella begged.

                Mike helped her sit on the edge of the sidewalk.

                “Whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket,” she warned. She was still so dizzy. She slumped over on her side, putting her cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing her eyes.

                It seemed to help a little.

                “Wow, you’re green, Bella.” Mike said nervously.

                “Bella?” A different voice called from the distance.

                No…she really, really hoped that she was imagining that horribly familiar voice.

                “What’s wrong—is she hurt?” His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. Bella wasn’t imagining it. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not throw up.

                Mike seemed stressed. “I think she’s fainted. I don’t know what happened. She didn’t even stick her finger.”

                “Bella.” Edward’s voice was right beside her, relieved now. “Can you hear me?”

                “No,” she groaned petulantly. “Go away.”

                He was chuckling now.

                “I was taking her to the nurse,” Mike explained in a defensive tone. “But she wouldn’t go any further.”

                “I’ll take her.” Edward said. Bella could hear the smile still in his voice. “You can go back to class.”

                “No,” Mike protested. “I’m supposed to do it.”

                Edward sighed. “Mike, if Bella’s with the nurse, who’s going to help Hattie to the gym?”

                The sidewalk suddenly disappeared from beneath Bella. Her eyes flew open in shock—Edward had scooped her up in his arms, as easily as if she weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and ten. As she began panicking, she noted that Mike was walking sullenly back to class.

                “Put me down!” _Please, please do not let me vomit on him._ He was walking before she’d finished talking.

                “You look awful,” Edward grinned.

                “Put me back on the sidewalk,” she moaned pitifully. The rocking movement of his walk was not helping. He held her away from his body, gingerly, supporting all her weight on his arms—it didn’t seem to bother him.

                “So, you faint at the sight of blood?” he asked. This seemed to entertain him.

                She didn’t answer. She closed her eyes again, fighting the nausea with all her strength, clamping her lips together.

                “And not even your own blood,” he continued, enjoying himself.

                Suddenly they were inside. She didn’t know how he had opened the door with her in his arms, but the warmth of the office rushed over her, so she knew it to be true.

                Ms. Cope bustled around, gasping and tutting. Edward explained that she fainted in biology, which was not necessarily true.

                Bella opened her eyes. They were in the office, and Edward was striding past the front counter towards the nurse’s door. Ms. Cope ran ahead of him to hold it open.

                The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, when Edward swung her into the room and placed her gently on the crackly paper that covered the cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall, as far across the room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited.

                “She’s just a little faint,” Edward told the nurse. “They’re blood typing in biology.”

                The nurse nodded sagely. “There’s always one.”

                Edward muffled a snicker.

                “Just lie down for a minute, honey; it’ll pass.”

                “I know,” Bella sighed. The nausea was already fading now that she was sitting still again.

                “Does this happen a lot?” the nurse asked.

                “Sometimes…” Bella admitted. Edward coughed to hide another laugh.

                The nurse looked at him. “You can go back to class now.”

                “I’m supposed to stay with her,” Edward said, with such assured authority that—even though she pursed her lips—the nurse didn’t argue.

                She just bustled out of the office muttering about grabbing a cold compress.

                “You were right,” Bella moaned, letting her eyes close against the fluorescent lights.

                “I usually am,” agreed Edward. “But about what, in particular, this time?”

                “Ditching _is_ healthy.” Bella said it evenly, practicing her breathing.

                Edward watched her quietly for a moment. Then, “You scared me for a minute there,” he admitted. His tone made it sound like he was admitting a humiliating weakness. “I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods.”

                “Ha, ha,” she said, her eyes still closed. She was feeling more and more normal with every minute.

                “Honestly—I’ve seen corpses with better color. I was concerned I might have to avenge your murder.”

                “Poor Mike. I’ll bet he’s mad.”

                “He absolutely loathes me,” Edward said cheerfully.

                “You can’t know that,” Bella argued—but then she wondered suddenly if he could.

                “I saw his face—I could tell.”

                “How did you see me? I thought you were ditching.” She was mostly fine, now. The queasiness probably would’ve passed faster if she had something in her stomach—but then again, maybe it was lucky her stomach was empty.

                “I was in my car, listening to a CD.” His answer was so normal. It surprised her.

                The nurse came back into the room with a cold compress, which she laid across Bella’s head. Bella sat up, pleased when the mint-green walls stayed where they were. The nurse was about to make her lay back down when Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

                “We’ve got another one,” she warned.

                Bella hopped down to free the lone cot up for the next invalid, handing the cold compress back to the nurse. She didn’t need it.

                Then Mike staggered through the door with Lee Stephens, his lab partner. Edward and Bella drew back against the wall to give them room.

                “Oh no,” Edward muttered. “Get out to the office, Bella.”

                She looked up at him, bewildered.

                “Trust me—go.”

                Bella spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. She could feel Edward right behind her.

                “You actually listened to me.” He sounded stunned.

                “I smelled the blood,” Bella said, wrinkling her nose. Lee wasn’t sick from watching other people, like she was.

                “People can’t smell blood,” Edward contradicted.

                “Well, I can—that’s what makes me sick. It smells like rust…and salt.”

                Edward was staring at her with an unfathomable expression.

                “What?” she asked.

                “You weren’t sick when—Hattie…”

                Bella looked at the floor at the reminder. She had smelled the blood, like copper and rust, but at that moment she’d been so panicked—so in shock…

                Edward seemed to understand, because he didn’t push further.

                Mike came out the door then, glancing from Bella to Edward. The look he gave Edward confirmed what Edward said about loathing. He looked back to her, his eyes glum.

                “You look better,” he accused.

                “Just keep your hand in your pocket,” she warned him again.

                “It’s not bleeding anymore,” he muttered. “Are you going back to class?”

                “Are you kidding? I’d just have to turn right back around and come back.”

                “Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?” While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Edward, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

                Bella tried to sound as friendly as possible. “Yeah, we’re coming. Hattie’s really looking forward to it.”

                “We’re meeting at my dad’s store, at ten.” His eyes flickered to Edward again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear this wasn’t an open invitation.

                “We’ll be there,” Bella promised.

                “I’ll see you in gym, then,” he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.

                “See you.” She replied. He looked at her once more, his round face slightly pouting. As he walked through the door, his shoulder slumped.

                A wave of sympathy washed over Bella. She pondered seeing his disappointed face again…in gym.

                “Gym,” Bella groaned.

                “I’ll take care of that,” she hadn’t noticed Edward move toward her, but he was whispering in her ear now. “Go sit down and look pale.”

                That wasn’t really an issue—she was always pale. Her recent swoon had even left a sheen of sweat on her face. She sat down in one of the rickety waiting room chairs, leaning against the wall. Fainting spells always left her exhausted.

                She could hear Edward speaking lowly to Ms. Cope, springing her out of class with as much skill as a trained actor.

                When he was done, Edward turned toward her and spoke. His voice was sarcastic.

                “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?”

                She rolled her eyes and let him lead her out into the cool, misty air. It felt nice, washing her face of sticky perspiration.

                “Thanks,” Bella told him. “It was almost worse getting sick just to miss gym.”

                “Anytime.” He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

                Bella was quiet for a moment and then, even if Mike wouldn’t approve, began talking. “So, are you going? This Saturday, I mean?”

                She was hoping he would, even though it seemed unlikely. She couldn’t picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn’t belong in the same world. But just hoping he might gave her a twinge of enthusiasm for the trip.

                “Where are you all going, exactly?” He was still looking ahead, expressionless.

                “Down to La Push, First Beach.” Bella studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.

                Then he looked down at her, smiling wryly. “I really don’t think I was invited.”

                Bella sighed. “I just invited you.”

                “Let’s you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don’t want him to snap.” His eyes danced at the idea—he was enjoying it _way_ more than he should.

                “Mike-schmike,” Bella muttered. She was preoccupied by the way he said “you and I.” She found she liked it more than she probably should.

                They neared the parking lot, and she hesitated when she saw her truck. If she took it, how would her siblings—her brother and her cousin, rather—get home? She could come and get them when school was over…

                She didn’t have to think about it too much, because Edward grabbed her jacket and yanked her toward him.

                “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, outraged. He was gripping a fistful of her jacket in his hand.

                She was confused. “I was just debating how my siblings would get home.”

                “They’ll take the truck,” he said, indignantly. “Didn’t you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?”

                His voice was still indignant. He was towing Bella toward his car now, pulling her by the jacket. It was all she could do to keep from falling backward.

 _He’d probably just drag me along anyways, if I did,_ she thought petulantly.

                “Let go!” she insisted. He ignored her. She staggered across the wet sidewalk until they reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed her—she stumbled against the passenger door. “You’re so pushy!”

                “It’s open,” was all he responded. He got in the driver’s side.

                It was raining harder now, and she’d never put her hood up, so her hair was dripping down her back. Bella tried to maintain her dignity as she got into Edward’s car. She wasn’t very successful—she looked like a half-drowned cat and her boots squeaked.

                He fiddled with the controls, turning the heat up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, Bella was preparing to give him the silent treatment—her face in full pout mode—but then she heard the music playing, and her curiosity got the better of her.

                “Clair de Lune?” she asked, surprised.

                “You know Debussy?” he sounded surprised, too.

                “Not well,” Bella admitted. “My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house—I only know my favorites.”

                “It’s one of my favorites, too.” He stared out into the rain, lost in thought.

                Bella listened to the music, relaxing into the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. She began to realize they were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, that she didn’t feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

                “What is your mother like?” Edward asked her suddenly.

                Bella glanced over to see him studying her with curious eyes.

                “She looks a lot like me, but prettier.” Bella began, fondly. His eyebrows rose. “I have too much Charlie in me. Beau has her eyes, though. He’s a lot more like her than me—outgoing, braver. She’s irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she’s a very unpredictable cook. She’s one of my best friends.”

                She stopped abruptly. Talking about Renee made Bella miss her more.

                “How old are you, Bella?” Edward’s voice sounded frustrated for some reason she couldn’t imagine. He’d stopped the car, and Bella realized they were at Charlie’s house already. The rain was so heavy she could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

                “I’m seventeen,” she replied, a little confused.

                “You don’t seem seventeen.” His tone was reproachful—it made her laugh. “What?” he asked, curious again.

                “My mom always says I was born thirty-five and get more middle-aged every year.” She laughed, and then sighed. “Well, someone has to be the adult. Besides, you don’t seem much like a junior in high school yourself.”

                He made a face and changed the subject. “So why did your mom marry Phil?”

                Bella was surprised he remembered the name—she’d mentioned it once, nearly two months ago. It took her a moment to answer.

                “My mother…she’s very young for her age. Phil makes her feel even younger, I think. At any rate, she’s crazy about him.” Bella shook her head. The attraction was a mystery to her.

                “Do you approve?” Edward asked.

                “Does it matter?” Bella countered. “Beau and I want her to be happy…and he is who she wants.”

                “That’s very generous… I wonder,” he mused.

                “What?”

                “Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?” He suddenly fell silent, eyes searching hers.

                “I-I think so,” Bella stuttered. “But she’s the parent, after all. It’s a little bit different.”

                “No one too scary, then,” Edward teased.

                Bella grinned in response. “What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and tattoos?”  

                “That’s one definition, I suppose.”

                “What’s your definition?”

                But he ignored her question, deflecting it with another. “Do you think I could be scary?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. The faint trace of a smile lightened his face.

                She wondered if the truth or a lie would go over better in this situation. She decided on the truth. “Hmm… I think you could be, if you wanted to be.”

                “Are you frightened of me now?” the smile had vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.

                “No.” She answered too quickly, though—his smile returned. “So are you going to tell me about your family, now?”

                It must be a more interesting story than hers—though with the addition of Hattie, possibly not.

                Edward was cautious now. “What do you want to know?”

                “The Cullens adopted you?” Bella verified.

                “Yes.”

                Bella hesitated for a moment. “What happened to your parents?”

                “They died many years ago.” His tone was matter-of-fact. Bella was reminded of Hattie, and her face clouded over. “What’s wrong? I don’t really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now.”

                Bella turned her face to avoid the question. Sometimes she still wondered about Hattie’s past. The girl was pretty secretive about it, but she and Beau had been able to put two and two together in some cases.

                “And you love them.” She said it as a statement. It was obvious, in the way he spoke of them. Her face turned downward again.

                Just as it was obvious that Hattie didn’t love her previous guardians.

                “Bella?” Edward asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

                “It’s nothing. Just—Hattie.”

                “Hattie?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together. Then they smoothed out. “Why does she live with you, Bella?”

                Bella sighed. It wasn’t really her story to tell, but she would tell him anything.

                “Her parents died a long time ago, too. When she was a baby. She lived with our aunt and uncle in England…but she didn’t have a very happy childhood. I worry about her sometimes. I feel sad for her. I think…you’re very lucky to have had Carlisle and Esme.”

                Edward nodded in agreement. “I am lucky. And you love your cousin.”

                “I love her like she’s my own sister,” Bella agreed. “I often find myself forgetting she’s not. What about your sister?”

                He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

                “My siblings, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain for me.”

                “Oh, I’m sorry, I guess you have to go.” She didn’t want to get out of the car.

                He smiled tenderly at her. “Have fun at the beach…good weather for sunbathing.” He glanced out at the sheeting rain.

                “Won’t I see you tomorrow?”

                “No. Edythe, Emmett and I are starting the weekend early.”

                “What are you going to do?” A friend could ask that, right? She hoped the disappointment wasn’t too prevalent in her voice.

                “We’re going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.”

                Bella remembered Charlie’s rant, when he’d said the Cullens went camping frequently.

                “Oh, well, have fun.” She tried sounding enthusiastic, but she didn’t think she’d fooled him. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.

                “Will you do something for me this weekend?” He asked, turning to look her straight in the face. He utilized the full power of his burning gold eyes.

                She nodded helplessly.

                “Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So…try not to fall into the ocean or get run over by anything, alright?” He smiled crookedly.

                The helplessness had faded as he spoke. Bella glared at him.

                “I’ll see what I can do,” she snapped at him as she jumped out into the rain. She slammed the door with excessive force.

                Edward was still smiling as he drove away.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the events of Twilight: 6  
> Hattie encounters a wolf, sort of  
> Avicii tribute- I wrote this chapter around the same time as his death. So this chapter (about the first 22 chapters, I think?) are a year old in April.

_“The heart can see things invisible to the eye.” ―[T.A. Barron](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11078.T_A_Barron)_

══════

                **Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**_// Bell-Bell’s nickname has been changed to Mrs. Cullen._ **

**Mrs. Cullen: beau youll have to drive home today**

**got sick in bio**

**edward drove me home**

**HEY! Who changed my name?!**

**Beauregard: i hear wedding bells**

**get it?**

**BELLS**

**Hattie-Dearest: are you feeling better now?**

**i didn’t know you fainted at the sight of blood**

**Beauregard: oh yah she does**

**once i got a bloody nose driving home from school**

**she fainted in the pass. seat**

**it was great**

**Mrs. Cullen: srsly who changed my name guys**

**Hattie-Dearest: not me**

**Beauregard: would i do something like that?**

**_//Beauregard’s nickname has been changed to Bozo_ **

**Bozo: srsly bella**

**it was just a joke**

**besides obviously u like him**

**right hattie?**

**Hattie-Dearest: leave me out of this**

**Bozo: u guys r no fun**

_―_ x _―_

                Bella accosted her siblings at the door when they got home. She’d been studying the third act of Macbeth, but the moment she heard the engine cut off in the driveway she ran to the door like an eager puppy.

                “You look much better than you did in Biology,” Hattie commented as she passed, dragging her heavy-looking bookbag behind her. The muscles in her good arm were straining, but she didn’t seem to notice.

                “Yeah, Mike was telling basically the entire school that you fainted on the sidewalk,” Beau added. When he passed her, he shook his head like a dog, sending water droplet flying from his curls. “He said Edward Cullen carried you to the nurse’s office.”

                “He did,” Bella told them. She was annoyed at Mike’s inability to keep his mouth shut. Even so, she suddenly had the urge to gush about what’d happened today, though it wasn’t much for gossip. “He’s seriously strong. He picked me right up off the sidewalk behind the cafeteria and carried me all the way to the office.”

                “To be fair it’s not like you’re _that_ heavy,” Beau pointed out. He was coming around the corner with a towel, running it through his hair.

                “I’d like to see you carry me that far without even getting out of breath, _Bozo,_ ” Bella muttered, moving to prep dinner. “He was really nice to me, even if his version of nice seems to be—mostly sarcasm and snark.”

                Hattie huffed a tiny laugh, looking fond. Bella didn’t ask.

                “So, why’d you come home?” Beau questioned, thunking his books onto the table. “I heard Lee Stephens was in the infirmary too, and I saw him in the parking lot.”

                “Edward’s doing,” Bella explained. “He convinced Ms. Cope that I was too ill to go to gym, so she let him bring me home.”

                “What happened at lunch?” Hattie cut in. “You looked like you were on a rollercoaster of emotions. Mike nearly went over to rescue you.”

                Beau started laughing loudly. “Yeah—man, that guy _loathes_ Edward. It’s hilarious.”

                Bella looked up from where she was rolling pieces of fish in some breading. She wasn’t the biggest fan of seafood in general, but she was tired of it clogging up their freezer.

                “We bantered a lot,” she finally settled on. Even though she wanted to gush, there were some secrets that weren’t hers to tell. “He told me we could be friends. He’s still super confusing and cryptic, but I think we found some common ground. I think I understand him a little better now.”

                “Yeah, but what did you talk _about?_ ” Hattie pressed. Her eyes were wide, curious. “You had an awful lot of alone time today, there must’ve been _something_ interesting.”

                Bella’s lips quirked up. “We talked about why I moved here. Our families. He was really interested about Renee and kept asking me things like, _yes, but why did she remarry?_ And _do you approve?_ ” after thinking a moment, she added mischievously, “We also talked a little bit about superheroes.”

                “You don’t even like superheroes,” Beau protested.

                Bella’s smile took a wicked turn. “No, but Edward does.”

                “So we like him now,” Hattie mused. “Right?”

                “I do,” Bella answered. “You guys can make your own decisions.”

                Besides, she wanted to keep him as hers for just a little bit longer. Even though he wasn’t— _hers,_ that is.

                Of course, at school on Friday she’d been prepared for the fainting comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of it. Beau had been exaggerating about Mike telling “the whole school” about Edward’s involvement—nobody but those who had been there, and her siblings, knew. But Jessica had a whole bunch of questions about lunch.

                She asked what he’d wanted, and told Bella she’d never seen him sit with anyone other than his family before. At Bella’s blasé answers, she seemed to get annoyed—Bella guessed she’d been hoping to hear something that would make a good story to pass on.

                The worst part about Friday was that, even though she knew he wouldn’t be there, she still hoped. She walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, unable to keep herself from searching out his table. Jasper, Rosalie, and Alice sat there, talking with their heads close together.

                When Bella plopped down at her usual table, disappointed, she realized that she didn’t know how long it would be before she saw him again. She was engulfed in a gloomy mood.

                Nobody really seemed to notice, though Hattie did eye her knowingly. The rest of the table was full of chatter about their plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust into the local weatherman, who promised sun tomorrow. Bella would have to see that before she believed it—though it was warmer today, almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn’t be completely miserable.

                Bella intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which she didn’t understand until they were all walking out together. She was right behind Lauren, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that.

                “…don’t know why _Bella_ ”—she sneered the name—“doesn’t just sit with the Cullens from now on.” Bella heard her muttering to Mike.

                She’d never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice Lauren had, and she was surprised by the malice in it. Bella really didn’t know her that well, certainly not well enough for Lauren to dislike her—or so she’d thought.

                “She’s my friend, she sits with us,” Mike whispered back loyally, but also territorially.

                Hattie grabbed Bella’s arm and they hung back to let Jessica and Angela pass them. Bella was glad—she didn’t want to hear anymore.

                As class was starting, Bella got a quick series of messages from Hattie.

**Hattie Potter: i don’t know why lauren was being such a brat**

**but i’m sorry you had to hear all that**

**she must be jealous**

**and mike is seriously weird too**

**Bella Swan: youre right, she must just be jealous**

**Thanks Hattie.**

                She put her phone away with a smile as the bell rang.

 _―_ x _―_

                That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about their trip to La Push in the morning. Hattie thought perhaps he felt guilty for going away every weekend and leaving them alone—but he’d spent too many years in the habit to break that now.

                Of course, he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents too, probably. He seemed to approve.

                Bella cut in as they were finishing up. “Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks, or something like that? I think it’s south of Mount Rainier.” Her voice was casual, unconcerned.

                “Yeah—why?”

                Bella shrugged. “Some kids were talking about camping there.”

                “It’s not a very good place for camping,” Charlie said, sounding surprised. “Too many bears. Most people go there during hunting season.”

                “Oh,” Bella murmured. “Maybe I got the name wrong.”

                Hattie watched her cousin curiously—wondering who it was that was going camping. Bella wasn’t an athletic, outdoorsy person, so her interest in the activity seemed wildly unnatural.

                Hattie had plans for going to see Jacob while she was in La Push. The excitement over it kept her up, and she ended up sleeping in for once. When she woke the following morning, it was to an unusual brightness.

                She opened her eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through her window. Hattie couldn’t believe it—she ran to her window to check. Sure enough, there was the sun. She felt like she hadn’t seen the sun since August. Even in dreary Little Whinging she saw the sun more than she did in Forks.

                After checking the temperature—a whopping sixty-six degrees—Hattie broke out some of her summer things. A circle skirt and a summery blouse tucked into it with some fun flats. Her pale skin could use the vitamin D.

                (It would be just her luck if she got sunburned. Her arms would be two different colors.)

                She put on as many of her clothes as she could, which ended up being her underwear and her skirt, then groaned and went to find Bella.

                Bella was still in her room, gazing out the window in incredulity. When Hattie knocked, Bella came to help her, ignoring Hattie’s bashfulness.

                They’d gotten over the awkwardness by now. Hattie held a shirt to her front half whilst Bella clasped her bra, and then from the back her cousin helped her carefully maneuver the shirt over her blocky, bulky cast.

                Hattie began to tuck it in clumsily, smiling to herself.

                “Do you want me to help—?” Bella asked, motioning to her skirt.

                “I think I can do it,” Hattie rejected, tongue between her teeth as she tried to one-handedly tuck her blouse in. After a moment, she gave up, grumbling, “I can’t wait to get this stupid thing off.”

                Once that was over, the two girls went to collect Beau. He was wearing swim-trunks and a t-shirt, grinning like a fool.

                “Do you seriously think the water’s gonna be warm enough to swim in?” Bella asked, rolling her eyes. “I guess if you get pneumonia, it’s your own fault.”

                The Newtons’ Olympic Outfitters was just north of town, and to Hattie it was a familiar, welcome site. She’d spent her first hour as a learning driver going round in circles in their parking lot, after all.

                Bella pulled her monster of a truck up to where Mike’s Suburban and Tyler’s Sentra were parked together. There was a ton of people gathered already. Hattie saw Eric, Mike, and Tyler along with two other boys Hattie didn’t share any classes with. She believed they were called Ben and Connor. Jessica was there (unfortunately) with Angela, Lauren, and McKayla. Two more girls stood with them, one of which muttered something in Lauren’s ear at the site of Bella. Lauren shook her hair out and glared at Hattie’s cousin.

                So, it was going to be one of _those_ days, then.

                Mike was happy to see Bella, explaining that they were just waiting on Lee and Samantha now, unless one of them had invited somebody. (Which they hadn’t.)

                “So, will you ride in my car?” Mike asked Bella, seeming happy to ignore Beau and Hattie. “It’s either that or Lee’s mom’s minivan.”

                Bella shrugged, looking at Beau and Hattie. “Sure.”

                Mike smiled blissfully at that—Hattie had the thought that it was so easy to make that boy happy.

                Mike promised Bella that she could have shotgun, which seemed to make her uncomfortable. Jessica was glaring at Bella from a distance—Hattie really, really disliked that girl.

                Hattie was sure Bella was pleased that the numbers worked out in their favor, though. Lee ended up bringing two extra people and suddenly every seat was necessary. Bella managed to wedge Jessica between her and Mike in the front seat.

                Hattie wasn’t as lucky—she ended up, as the smallest one, seated in a lap.

                _Eric’s_ lap.

                Both vehicles were full to the bursting, but nobody else was complaining. Hattie wished that Beau had at least ended up in Mike’s Suburban with them—then she could sit on his lap instead. It’d probably still be awkward, but at least he wouldn’t have his hands dangerously low around her hips. She perched, stiffly, as far forward on his thighs as possible.

                The fifteen-mile drive to La Push had never seemed longer. Hattie couldn’t even admire the lush, gorgeous scenery—too busy ensuring she never once relaxed backward into Eric’s lap.

                When they finally unloaded, Hattie was among the first to scramble out of the vehicle, face hot with anger and embarrassment. Eric looked entirely too pleased with himself, the slimy git.

                The mile-long crescent that made up First Beach was gorgeous, though, and it quickly took her mind off the situation. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steely waters with sheer cliffsides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs.

                The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water’s edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance. Up close, they were every shade that a stone could be: terracotta, sea green, lavender, blue grey, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone-white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary just out of the reach of waves.

                 They picked their way down the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like this before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Some of the boys began gathering drier pieces of broken driftwood to build the fire up, making a teepee-like construction atop the older ashes.

                Beau lounged next to Hattie, his long, skinny legs stretched out before them. “You’ve never seen a driftwood fire before, have you?”

                Hattie shook her head at him. “No. I’ve only seen a bonfire a couple of times.” She wasn’t usually invited to Bonfire Night with her relatives and it wasn’t really a wizarding tradition.

                “The salt turns the fire blue,” Beau told her excitedly. “It’s really interesting.”

                Mike, at least, seemed pretty good at coaxing the fire to life. It crackled and popped as the flames licked through the salty driftwood. As tongues of flame grew higher and higher, Hattie was entranced by the hot blue and green colors swirled within.

                Nature was magical.

                After relaxing by the fire for a while, the Swan trio headed down to the beach. Most people were splitting off in small groups to go do their own thing. Some were walking into town to visit the small corner store, others had formed a hiking expedition and ventured into the forest in search of tide pools. Down the beach, a few of their schoolmates were tossing a Frisbee around.

                Bella and Hattie mostly waded in the ice-cold water, picking up seashells. Hattie made a game of trying to find the biggest shell. They crouched down together, laughing as the wind tied knots in their hair, digging shells from the sand. Bella used a soggy twig she’d found—Hattie just dug the fingers of her good hand into the wet sand.

                Beau had kept to his intentions, shedding his shirt and shoes and prancing off into the water. His stark white skin made him look ghostly compared to the sun-kissed water around him. (Hattie could see Angela admiring Beau from down the beach, where she had joined the Frisbee group. She wondered if the tall girl could tell from that distance that Beau’s flat stomach was flat, but soft and not muscular. She wondered if it would have mattered to Angela, anyways.)

                Thinking about her peers’ relationships distracted Hattie from her shell-finding game. It’d been over two months since Christmas—ten weeks, now. She hadn’t seen Jacob in that long.

                There had been opportunities, of course. At first Hattie had just been feeling shy—a product of their near-kiss, most likely. Then she got busier and busier, with school and her cousins. Then, the accident. Suddenly she wasn’t well enough to make the trip to La Push, what with the gash in her head. On top of all that, time kept passing and she got more and more stressed about the situation with Professor.

                It wasn’t the ideal situation, that was all.

                Jacob understood. She texted him and called him on the phone daily. He, too, was busy—Billy was riding him hard about grades and wouldn’t let him do anything if they were too low.

                They hadn’t really drifted apart. They just had to bear the distance in the meantime.

The tide came in at some point and she was caught in it. The hem of her skirt dragged through the water. When it washed away, Hattie was somewhat disappointed to see it took most of her shells with it.

                “I think I win,” Bella decided brightly. She had a reasonable stack of shells, and most of them were moderate in size. One was the size of Hattie’s fist, without a doubt the largest either of them had found. “Are you hungry? I think it’s about dinner time.”

                Beau came running up, shaking his wet body like a dog. The girls shrieked, half-annoyed, half-amused, as the chilly water droplets clung to them. “Let’s take a picture!” the boy demanded, huddling them up together.

                He bent down between them, from behind, so that they were all near the same height. They all looked pale, but flushed from the sun—and happy. Bella held out the phone for him and they clicked a couple of pictures before she shoved him away in annoyance.

                “Come on, I’m hungry,” Bella whined, handing his phone back. “And you got me all wet!”

                They walked back to the bonfire, laughing as they went. Beau was teasing Bella about the last time they’d been on a beach—an ill-fated trip that had ended in visit to the hospital when Bella somehow tumbled straight into a fishing hook. Both of Hattie’s cousins seemed shocked that this was Hattie’s first true visit to the beach.

                (She didn’t count the fishing trip, where the most she’d seen of the beach was its docks.)

                And then they were back to the group, and Hattie felt her heart stutter in her chest.

                The bonfire was going in full swing. All the stragglers who’d made their way off solo had found themselves together again as the sun set. All of Hattie’s friends and acquaintances (and not-so-acquaintances… _Jessica_ ) sat in the sand or on blankets or driftwood logs around the fire. They were passing around plates of food and someone’s stereo was thumping an upbeat, electronic bassline. In the light of the sunset—the fire casting playful, dark shadows across everyone’s faces—the scene looked like it could’ve been taken right out of a movie.

                A group of newcomers had joined the party, locals from the tribe come to socialize. Their copper skin and dark hair shone in the firelight.

                _“Thank the stars it’s Friday…burnin’ like a fire gone wild on Saturday...”_ the stereo crooned.

                And there he was, looking up as if he was intrinsically aware of her presence.

                A breathtaking smile broke out over his charming face. As always, his teeth seemed too white in his mouth—straight and perfect, like the poster child for a dental company’s ad. The girl he was speaking with must’ve realized he was no longer paying her any attention, because she turned to follow his gaze—her eyes alit on Hattie and she scowled.

                Hattie didn’t care. She was halfway across the bonfire circle by the time he had half-risen from his seat.

                She hadn’t pictured this moment. Actually, it seemed nuts that it had been ten weeks since the last time they saw each other—time was funny that way. He had grown since she saw him last, a few inches at least. He was shirtless and barefoot in the firelight, his long hair hanging loose over his shoulders.

                Jacob was beautiful.

                Hattie collided with his chest with an excited, if pained, yelp—in her rush, she’d forgotten about her cast. He held her tightly, securely in place for perhaps a moment too long, then pushed her away from him.

                “Hattie!” he laughed. “I hoped I’d run into you!”

                “You knew I was coming,” Hattie accused. She couldn’t be irritated at him—she had never mentioned the beach trip, in an attempt to plan a surprise.

                “I suspected,” Jacob agreed cheekily. “Look at you! You look so good! How’s your head? How’s your arm?” his voice was unexpectedly giddy—was it possible, Hattie wondered, that he felt the same things she did? This inexplicable draw to be near him, like their souls had known each other for eons?

                She’d assumed it was her magic, but his sincere gaze made her second-guess herself.

                “You’ve grown, too,” Hattie told him with a bashful blush. She knew she wasn’t any taller—the only things that had filled out were her curves—and that he noticed made her both pleased and self-conscious. “My arm is alright. Like my cast? It’s cuter in person, huh?” she bantered.

                Of course, there wasn’t much to catch up on. She told him everything important over the phone, even sending pictures of her battle wounds. He’d seen the X-Rays, the green and purple bruising around her elbow before it’d been casted, he’d even seen her crushed car. The only thing she hadn’t shown him was the gash on her head—half because she couldn’t get the angle right with only one arm and half because of insecurity.

                Now, Hattie showed Jacob her cut shyly. Dr. Cullen had needed to shave the area to stitch her up, and she’d been pretty self-conscious about it since then. It’d been seven weeks since the accident, though, and the spot was covered with short, downy baby hairs. It was easily hidden amongst the rest of her thick curls, which she’d taken to wearing loose in an attempt to cover up the bald spot.

                (Also, in part, because she couldn’t put her hair up without help.)

                Jacob ran his fingers over what was left of the wound—a thin, raised line, which would probably stay scarred…unless she used magic. His soulful brown eyes met hers and she shivered with the level of sincerity and sorrow inside his gaze.

                “I’m really glad you’re okay, Hattie,” he told her softly. His eyes danced in the light of the bonfire. “You don’t know how much it killed me knowing were hurt.”

                “I don’t remember much from that day,” Hattie told him, truthfully. Before the accident was a blur, and after the accident felt like a fever-induced dream. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

                He caressed her cheek with his warm, calloused fingers—she even thought he might kiss her now, finally, in the firelight. But then Beau interrupted, Bella trailing behind him slowly.

                The Swans were really, _really_ good at interrupting Hattie’s Hollywood moments.

                “So, you’re who Hattie’s been caught up on,” cackled her older cousin mischievously. Jacob greeted him warmly with a complicated fist bump— _boys._ “How’ve you been, man?”

                The trio chatted for a little bit and Hattie stayed tucked under Jacob’s arm like a baby bird. They were bantering about the monster of a truck Billy had sold Charlie, which Jacob had been glad to be rid of. Apparently, Billy wouldn’t let him work on another car when there was a perfectly functioning one in their driveway.

                “Wow, so you build cars?” Bella asked, impressed.

                “When I have free time, and parts,” Jacob agreed. His arm was thrown over her shoulder and Hattie held onto the hand like a lifeline. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?”     he added jokingly.

                “Sorry,” Bella laughed. “I haven’t seen any lately, but I’ll keep my eyes open for you.”

                Jacob flashed Bella and appreciative grin. It wasn’t in the fishing, expectant way of her other admirers—he was simply friendly, enjoying their banter. But Lauren noticed and was quick to be snarky.

                “You know Bella, Jacob?” Lauren asked—in a nasally, insolent tone—from across the fire. Hattie scowled at her. Even though _Hattie_ was the one wrapped up in Jacob’s embrace, Lauren had a problem with Bella and took every opportunity to show it.

                “I’ve kind of known the Swans since I was born,” Hattie’s sort-of-date laughed freely.

                “How nice,” Lauren said, but she didn’t sound like she thought it was very nice at all. She couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Bella,” she called again. “I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn’t anyone think to invite them?”

                Her expression of concern was unconvincing, and she came across as plain nasty. Hattie didn’t like it one bit, scowling and holding tighter to Jacob’s hand. He tightened his arm around her in response, instinctive.

                Luckily, an older boy from the reservation spoke up. He was really more of a man than a boy—his voice was incredibly deep, and he was tall and well-muscled. “You mean Dr. Cullen’s family?”

                Hattie noticed that his words caused Bella to perk up. Her obsession with the Cullens was getting a _little_ out of control.

                “Yes, do you know them?” Lauren asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward the tall native.

                “The Cullens don’t come here,” he said, in a tone that closed the subject.

                Hattie was surprised at that. The Cullens seemed like a perfectly nice family—Dr. Cullen was an incredible doctor. Sure, they had a dangerous aura, like they were bombs only second from exploding…but nobody else knew that. She was the only one who could feel it.

                Jacob and her cousins continued chatting idly—about whether Forks was driving them insane, cars, just everything. Hattie was enjoying herself just being near him, her magic twining playfully about, indiscernible to the muggles.

                It happened so fast.

The tall, older boy walked by them, heading out toward the darkened beach. It’d been so long since she felt the presence of magic that when he slid by and she felt the spirit inside of him, a coil of her magic reached toward it. She stiffened—he didn’t notice, he couldn’t, not unless he _was_ a wizard. She was quick to quiet her magic down, pulling it in toward her, all of the rules she had always been taught roiling around in her brain. There was panic, a war waging inside her mind. _Be diligent._

Hattie hadn’t gotten a good enough taste of his aura to be sure, but he felt different from everyone surrounding her.

                He felt like home.

                “Hattie?” Jacob asked. “Are you okay?”

                They’d stopped talking. Jacob could feel her tensed body below his arm.

                “Yeah—uh, yeah. You know what, I’ll be right back,” Hattie told him, smiling toothily. He unraveled her from his body and let her go, still watching her concernedly as she followed a target he couldn’t see down the beach.

                He must’ve been making his way for the far edge of the forest, his stride fast. She prowled behind him, unleashing magic she hadn’t used since she got to Forks. Notice-me-nots, silencing charms. She even put a featherweight charm on her body to stop the sand from sinking under her feet.

                When she got close enough, even with her charms he seemed to notice something amiss. He was looking around, eyes sliding right over her, but his nose was working like he could smell something. He couldn’t smell her, right?

                She was several yards away still when his aura hit her like a brick.

                No, he definitely was _not_ a wizard. Wizards felt like…ozone, electricity crackling through a static-filled sky, like burning, sizzling power and petrichor. Wizards oozed magic, and it was tied to their very beings—it ran through their veins like blood, encircled their hearts, formed a core deep within their chests.

                He had none of these qualities.

                But he was something entirely other. Something Hattie had never felt before.

                He felt ancient and wise like he held all the knowledge of his ancestors. Like he’d lived in the heart of a mighty oak for hundreds of years. What she’d mistaken for magic was something she could only describe as pure spirit, wild, windy, a force to be reckoned with. At the same time, that same mischievous energy that many of the Quileute tribe exuded came from him—only stronger, intense. Standing next to him, bathing in his aura, she felt like she could run thirty miles through the deepest Olympian forests, through rivers, over fallen trees…and never get tired. The atmosphere around him crackled with a rejuvenating, resonating, _refreshing_ energy. When she saw the moonlight reflect in his eyes, it was almost like there was a physical spirit emanating from him; an overlay, ghostly, more of an impression than an actual image, of a proud wolf blurred atop the body of a man.

                Nobody had noticed—but then, nobody else could read auras.

                It was like nothing Hattie could explain. She followed him down the beach and to the edge of the woods, aching for the knowledge he held within his being.

                But finally, she lost him. He knew the woods like the back of his hands and was paranoid that someone was following him—she could feel his aura get further and further away until suddenly, not only could she not feel him, she couldn’t see him either.

                It was maddening.

                It was exciting.

                Hattie was nearly back to the bonfire before she remembered to release the spells she’d placed upon herself, drawing her magic back into its resting place among her core. It had gotten a taste of freedom and was unhappy to be caged back up, but she didn’t hesitate to lock it away.

                She hadn’t kept her guard up—she vowed that Professor would never find out about this. She’d been far too careful for far too long to have made such a novice mistake.

                The local boy hadn’t been a wizard, but she hadn’t known that when her magic brushed his aura. She’d been lucky.

                If tonight taught her anything, it was the importance of keeping her guard up—even in places of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! :) Here are a couple of notes, so you don't get your hopes up!  
> * Hattie knows about the pack, but will not find out who the members are until New Moon era  
> * Hattie knows about vampires, but will not find out the Cullens are vampires for a long time still  
> * Remember this is a drama so things are supposed to be a little dramatic :P 
> 
> Anyways, if you liked this chapter, please leave a comment! :) Next chapter will probably be next week. Here's a sneak of Chapter 14:
> 
> “I told you it was complicated,” Hattie said, wiping her eyes again. Slowly she seemed to regain her composure, though she didn’t let go of the picture of Cecelia and Cedric. “There are so many things you don’t know.”  
> Was it strange that Bella thought she sounded just a little bit like Edward, then? Cryptic and self-loathing, but with a longing to unburden herself.  
> “I would listen,” Bella promised. “If you wanted me to.”  
> “It’s not a matter of want,” Hattie whispered, and went back to her journal.  
> Afterward, it took Bella an embarrassingly long time to compose herself. She stared at the screen of Hattie’s laptop, the colorful Google logo, purposely not looking in her cousin’s direction. Occasionally, though, in her peripheral, she saw the tremors running through Hattie’s shoulders.  
> It’s not a matter of want, Bella thought, bewildered, shaken. What sort of secret was Hattie hiding?  
> Sighing, listening to the idle scratch of Hattie’s pen on paper, Bella went back to her previous issue. She needed to focus on one thing at a time.  
> At least she was reasonably sure that Hattie was human, Bella thought, staring at the query she’d never finished. Vampire?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Follows the events of Twilight: 7  
> \- angst <3 I love Hattie angst.  
> \- Kind of got away from me, to be honest. The story decided it was time for more of Hattie's backstory. I don't regret it, I just wanted to warn you.

**14.**

_That was the thing about heartache. You never could erase it. You carried it with you, always. ―[Kass Morgan](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6922454.Kass_Morgan)_

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                Eric found Hattie before she could reach the bonfire. “Hattie! Where have you been?”

                She jerked at the sound of his voice. She’d been trudging along the beach slowly, her eyes scanning the shore unseeingly. For some reason she couldn’t get the feel of the native boy’s aura out of her head—the image of the ghostly wolf overlaid atop him.

                “I took a walk,” she responded. It was not untrue, so the words came easily, smoothly to her.

                Eric seemed pleased. She could see him drawing connections between her leaving Jacob to go take a walk…alone. She didn’t like the look his smug face wore, though.

                “I just needed some air, Eric. Don’t look that far into it,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. He was friendly—not in the honest-to-goodness sweet way that Mike usually was, but Eric was nice enough. He just didn’t seem to understand the boundary between _nice_ and _creepy._

                “Yeah, yeah,” he told her, delighted at her defensiveness. “Anyways, we’re packing up. It’s going to rain soon.”

                “Alright, I’m coming…” Hattie sighed.

                She didn’t regret running off after that boy—she only wished it hadn’t cut into her already sparse time with Jacob. She tried to remind herself there was nothing stopping her from coming to see him, and that soon they would be headed to the dance together.

                Hattie tried to picture Jacob in a suit, which was nearly impossible. He seemed to relish in the freedom of nakedness, if his current half-dressed state was anything to go by.

                Most of the natives had dispersed by the time they reached the bonfire ring. Hattie could see that most of their group was already making the trek up toward their vehicles.

                Hattie spied Jacob and Bella on the far side of the bonfire ring, but Beau was nowhere to be found. She headed over to them, noting the whiter-than-usual look on Bella’s face with worry.

                “Is everything alright?” She asked, stopping at Bella’s side. She examined her cousin’s face concernedly.

                Jacob was chuckling. “I just told her a scary story. Must’ve spooked her a little bit.”

                Bella muttered an agreement. The faraway look in her eyes made Hattie curious as to what the story could’ve been about, but she didn’t ask.

                “I guess we’re getting ready to leave,” Hattie informed the duo contritely. “Eric just about jumped me when I was walking up. He seems to think we’ve had a row.”

                “A what?” Jacob questioned, then looked around as if trying to figure out who Eric was.

                “You know, a row? Emm…like we’ve bickered.”

                “Ohh…” Jacob laughed. “It’s funny, I’m so used to you and your accent that I keep forgetting the UK is another culture.”

                A drop of rain landed on Hattie’s cheek.

                “I guess it’s time to go,” she sighed.

                Jacob rocked on his heels, looking down. After a moment, he asked, bashfully, “So…when I get the Rabbit up and running…”

                “You should come see me in Forks,” Hattie finished. She felt guilty that she hadn’t made enough time for him recently. “And next time Charlie comes down to visit Billy, I will try to come too.”

                His too-white grin stretched across his teeth. Hattie was once again caught in the intensity of his eyes. “And I’ll see you at the dance.”

                “And I’ll see you at the dance,” Hattie concurred.

                Hattie shivered a little as she and Bella tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot.                 A few more drops of rain were beginning to fall, and she had, stupidly, forgotten a jacket. Beau was helping the others load everything into the back of the Suburban. She stuck by him closely, so they could get a seat together.

                Bella seemed to have the same idea and somehow, they managed to sit together in the back of Mike’s car. Hattie sat between them, perched half on each of their laps. It was a much more pleasant (though still slightly awkward) experience than this morning.

                Bella used Hattie’s shoulder as a headrest, closing her eyes against the world. Whatever scary story Jacob had told her had really taken its toll.

—x—

                Bella and Hattie both went straight to the loft once they got home, leaving Beau to make their excuses to Charlie. To be fair, it _was_ getting late and they’d had a long, exciting day at the beach. Perhaps he would simply think they were sun-drunk with the type of post-sun sleepiness even caffeine couldn’t cure.

                She helped Hattie into her sleep shirt and they said goodnight, though Bella wasn’t entirely sure she could sleep now. When Hattie padded off to bed, Bella dug out her earbuds and jammed them into her phone, scrolling through her music. She needed something that would take her mind off all of the legends Jacob had told her while Hattie was gone.

                Bella found a playlist Phil had shared with her—it was an album from one of his favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for her tastes. She stuffed her headphones into her ears, laying down on her bed. Then she hit the play button, turning the volume up until it hurt her ears.

                _Listening to music at high volume may cause hearing loss_ , her phone prompted, but she turned the volume up higher still.

                So she laid there, using the loud music to short-circuit her brain. She listened to the album on repeat, concentrating carefully on the music. She tried to understand the lyrics, unravel the drum patterns. Soon she knew all of the words to the choruses. Surprisingly, once Bella got past the noise, she actually liked the band.

                And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for her to think—which was the whole purpose of the exercise. She listened to the album again and again until, finally, she fell asleep.

                Bella opened her eyes onto a familiar, dread-inducing scene. She was, in some part of her consciousness, aware that she was dreaming—but it didn’t stop the blind panic she felt.

                She was in the Forks High School parking lot. Tyler’s van was smashed around the edge of Hattie’s hatchback. Bella had relived this scene many times over the last seven weeks—stress seemed to trigger it. But tonight, it was different.

                There were no other cars in the parking lot. Not even the tan one that Edward had braced himself against—just Hattie’s hatchback and the van.

                Tyler’s body was in the van, but he was unmoving. Hattie lay brokenly on the icy pavement, Edward’s shaking form hovering over her. Everything seemed to be in slow motion—Bella wandered slowly toward Tyler, her footsteps echoing eerily in the empty parking lot.

                She screamed when she saw his body. He had to be dead. His jugular was ripped out, vacant eyes staring at the roof of his vehicle.

                “Run, Bella, you have to run!” a sudden voice yelled. She turned, her face still horrified. Jacob was there, his face frightened.

                “This way, Bella!” Beau’s voice called, coming from the other side of the vacant parking lot. Bella could only barely see him in the distance.

                “Why?” Bella asked. She was desperate now to get to Hattie—her prone form, Edward’s shaking shoulders.

                But Jacob let go of her hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the icy pavement. He twitched on the ground and Bella watched in fascinated horror.

                “Jacob!” she screamed. But he was gone—in his place was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from her, pointing toward the scene of the accident. The hair on his shoulders was bristled, low growls issuing from behind exposed fangs.

                “Bella, run!” Beau’s voice called again, but she didn’t turn. The sun was coming out from behind the clouds and Edward was turning.

                His skin glowed faintly. He faced her, blood around his mouth and down his chest—his eyes were black, dangerous. He held out one hand to beckon her toward him.

                The wolf at her feet growled, darting around the duo to place himself protectively in front of Hattie. Edward’s eyes followed him, but he didn’t turn.

                Bella took a single step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed.

                “Trust me,” he purred.

                She took another step.

                The wolf launched himself across the space between Hattie and the vampire, fangs aiming for the throat.

                “No!” Bella screamed, wrenching herself upright out of her bed.

                The sudden movement knocked her phone off the bed, pulling the headphones out of the jack. Loud music suddenly blared throughout the room and Bella scrambled to turn it off, scrubbing her hand across her face wearily.

                Her light was still on, and she was still fully dressed—shoes and all. She clicked the screen of her phone on, a bit disoriented. It was five-thirty in the morning. She groaned, leaning forward to pull her shoes off her aching feet.

                She was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. Bella wiggled out of her jeans, kicking them off slowly. She tried to slow her heartbeat down, truly tried to slip back into relaxation. Even as she finger combed the plaits out of her hair she already               knew it wouldn’t work.

                Even if she wasn’t wide awake, even if she _was_ on the brink of sleep…Her brain had conjured up the images she’d desperately tried to avoid.

                She’d just have to face them, then.

                It wasn’t Jacob’s fault—after Hattie and Beau had both gone off to do their own things, she had coaxed the stories out of him. The tall boy from the previous night—she learned his name was Sam—had dredged up a curiosity Bella hadn’t been able to shake. The way he said “The Cullens don’t come here” had sounded more like “The Cullens _can’t_ come here.”

                So, when Hattie had run off to ‘take a breather’ or whatever she’d claimed later, and the other boys had cajoled Beau (who they assumed was buff and strong due to his massive height) into helping them pack up, Bella struck. She was kind of embarrassed about it now. She’d obviously never come between Hattie and any of her love interests, but Bella would admit she’d done some flirting.

                Jacob had seen right through it, of course. She could tell by the amused lilt of his lips, as if Bella was doing something extraordinarily entertaining. Luckily, he was too nice to call her on it.

                Bella kicked her jeans into the hamper. She was trying to decide how to go about what she wanted to do. After a moment of hesitation, she realized she’d need to wait until either Hattie or Beau woke up—the only computers in the Swan residence resided in their bedrooms. With that in mind, Bella decided it was time to start getting ready for the day.

                Bella gathered up her bathroom bag and made her way toward the bathroom, stopping only when she saw that Hattie’s door was cracked. Her cousin usually slept with it closed, so seeing it ajar gave Bella sudden flashbacks to her horrendous dream. She was overwhelmed with the compulsive need to check that Hattie was still breathing.

                Hattie was still sleeping when Bella peeked in on her. Her cousin was not really a cute sleeper. (Bella had her doubts that _anyone_ was a cute sleeper, honestly.) She tossed and turned and mumbled in her sleep. Usually all her blankets ended up on the floor—today was no exception. The duvet and most of the pillows were strewn across the room and Hattie was tangled up in the remaining sheet, spread-eagle in the center of the bed.

                But her chest raised and lowered with each breath, and Bella’s panic was delayed for the minute.

                She dragged out her shower as long as possible—shampooing twice, taking extra caution whilst shaving, leaving her conditioner in for an extra minute. She waddled back to her room afterward, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, to get dressed.

                Bella dressed herself, blow-dried and re-braided her hair, brushed her teeth, made her bed, cleaned her room. She took great care to extend the duration of each activity, being extra thorough, but Hattie was still not awake by the time she was done at seven.

                With a sigh, Bella slipped down the stairs and went to get herself some cereal in the house. The ground was cold on her bare feet, still chilled from the night, so she tiptoed until she got in the door.

                As she made her bowl of cereal, she noted that Charlie’s cruiser wasn’t in the driveway. He must be fishing again.

                Bella was just finishing her breakfast, scrolling idly through her phone, when Hattie came in. The girl was a mess: clearly, she’d managed to undress herself, take a shower, and tried to redress herself. She’d only gotten so far, though—her leggings were on perfectly, as were her slippers, but the oversized t-shirt she’d chosen to put on was askew. Only her good arm was in the sleeve, she’d just pulled the shirt over the one in the cast. And she wasn’t wearing a bra.

                Bella couldn’t help it—she gave a startled laugh, much to Hattie’s displeasure.

                “I _tried_ ,” the small girl insisted with frustration. “Give me a little credit.”

                “Another week or two and you’ll be out of the cast,” Bella laughed, helping her right her shirt. Even with Bella’s two hands it was difficult to get Hattie’s arm in the sleeve—the cast was completely immobile—but eventually they managed to fix it.

                “What’re you doing up so early?” Hattie grumbled, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Charlie must’ve made it before he left. “It’s Sunday.”

                “Bad dreams,” Bella shuddered.

                “Was Jacob’s story really that scary?” Hattie insisted, eyebrows drawing together.

                Bella didn’t know how much of it she wanted to share. Some of the secrets, the ones about the Cullens, weren’t hers to give away. Finally, she settled that a lie via omission wasn’t nearly as bad as a blatant lie.

                “He just told me some of the Quileute stories. About how legend has it they’re descended from wolves,” Bella explained hesitantly. “It was my…imagination…that truly scared me.”

                Hattie surprised Bella by laughing a little. “I can’t believe you found that scary. I love the Quileute legends. Do you think if I marry Jacob he’ll be able to tell me the more secret ones?”

                Bella and Hattie both giggled at the proclamation. She was relieved Hattie hadn’t looked too far into her answer—she really didn’t like lying to her cousin-come-sister.

                “Anyways,” Bella said, still coming down from their giggle fit. “Do you think I could borrow your computer today?”

                “Oh,” Hattie smiled. “Sure, any time. It’s right on my desk.”

                After breakfast, which Bella dragged out as long as possible in an attempt to prolong the inevitable, they ventured back to the loft together. Bella lounged on Hattie’s bed whilst her cousin sat at the desk, writing idly in a huge, ancient-looking journal.

                Hattie’s laptop was a shiny, metallic baby pink. Bella had only seen it once in the entire time she’d been in Forks, when Hattie was typing up an essay after school one day. Even as Bella booted it up, she had the strange realization that Hattie didn’t use it often.

                This was confirmed when Hattie looked up at her through the mirror over her desk, grinning. “I don’t think I’ve opened that thing in a month.”

                It wasn’t exactly a secret that Hattie had money—and a lot of it. The girl never asked Charlie for anything, yet was always wearing nice, brand-name clothing. She had waved off Tyler’s parents when they tried to pay for accident related expenses: the tow truck, medical bills, even offering to buy her a new car since their son had totaled hers. But Hattie had just smiled and shook her head. Bella had the feeling that Aunt Lily and Uncle James were pretty well-off when they died, and had left Hattie set for at least the foreseeable future.

                But Hattie was pretty modest about it; it wasn’t often she splurged on material things for herself. She didn’t flaunt her money with ostentatious things, like Bella felt the Cullens did.

                Bella frowned at the thought and finally tried to log into the computer, only to see it was password locked.

                “Hey, Hattie. What’s the password?” she called.

                Hattie glanced up, taking the end of her pen out of her mouth. Her eyes were suddenly heavy. “Oh…it’s, um…Cecelia. C-E-C-E-L-I-A.”

                Her tone was reserved. She wouldn’t quite meet Bella’s eyes. Bella tried to wrack her brain, but the name wasn’t familiar—if Hattie had mentioned her, it had been only briefly.

                “Awesome, that worked. Who’s Cecelia?” she asked innocently, already pulling up Google.

                She assumed the answer would be something like—a best friend, a celebrity, a relative’s name. She could think of a couple reasons why Hattie would look so downtrodden at the name, but the way the girl was acting wasn’t normal. She looked like she was grieving, or perhaps reliving battle.

                It was a testament to the fact that there were still many things about Hattie that the Swans didn’t know.

                Finally, still not looking at Bella, Hattie replied in that soft, broken voice. “Cecelia is the little sister of one of my friends.”

                “You must love her,” Bella commented. She typed in one word, slowly, to the search engine. _Vampire._

                Hattie shrugged. Bella’s eyes flickered up to meet hers—they were emerald green, looking at Bella without seeing her. Bella’s brows pulled together.

                “Yeah, I guess I do,” Hattie agreed. She sounded like she wanted to say more.

                “Hattie?” Bella prompted. “What is it?”

                Her cousin turned back to face the enormous journal, using her thumb to ruffle the pages absent mindedly. Even through the mirror, she didn’t meet Bella’s eyes again.

                “It is complicated.”

                “I’m sure I can keep up,” Bella responded. Hattie was hunched over the desk now. “If you want to talk about it, I mean.”

                “I don’t know how,” Hattie admitted. “There’s—secrets that aren’t mine to give. Cecelia’s story wouldn’t make sense without them.”

                Bella lowered the lid of the laptop, staring at Hattie’s hunched back. She was intrigued, yet worried. _More secrets. The Cullens’ secrets. Hattie’s secrets._ Bella was beginning to realize that there were so many more layers to the world than she had ever realized.

                She yearned to know Hattie’s secrets, but her cousin was obviously traumatized. She wouldn’t push…for now.

                “So…tell me the basics,” Bella said, finally. “It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense. It just matters that you can tell me anything, if you need to.”

                Hattie was silent for long enough that she wondered if her cousin had even heard her. Then, still silent as a mouse, the girl came over to the bedside table and rifled through its drawer.

                She handed Bella a picture.

                It was a young boy. He had messy brown hair, but where the low summer sun touched, it shone deep red. He wasn’t looking at the camera, his dark eyes were on the infant in his arms, a look of utter adoration on his face. The baby was asleep. She had the slightly thin, pink look about her that many newborns do, her skin sort of blotchy. Her pink swaddle was unraveled, revealing a soft pink onesie—her little leg was stuck in the air, toes spread wide.

                On the back of the picture, in a messy script, read _Cedric & Cecelia. _It was dated nearly six years ago.

                Bella handed the picture back, wondering what she should say about it, but before she could open her mouth she caught sight of Hattie. She was staring at the picture with watery eyes, something like regret painted across her face.

                “Cedric was one of my closest friends,” Hattie told her, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “It’s hard to explain…this picture was from the happiest day of my life. My people…god, it’s really had to explain.”

                “It’s okay,” Bella soothed, blinking quickly. Her mind was trying to piece things together—but she didn’t have any matching pieces. The _Cedric was _and the _my people,_ it was all mind boggling to her.

                “It’s not,” Hattie argued bitterly. “Cecelia’s birth was a big deal, that’s all I can really say about it. When she was born she lit up our world—not just Cedric’s, but mine, all our friends, all the adults in our life. I was eleven, Cedric was fourteen. This picture was taken at the celebration of her birth. It was the last time I saw Cedric before he died.”

                Bella jolted with shock. Of all the things she’d been expecting to hear, that was not one of them. And the story still didn’t solve the question—if _Cedric_ had been Hattie’s friend, why was _Cecelia_ her password?

                She opened her mouth to give out platitudes, but realized they wouldn’t help any. Instead, she murmured, “What happened?”

                Hattie gave a short, hollow laugh. It didn’t sound right coming from her usually cheerful cousin. Bella had often, privately, thought that Hattie was like a baby bird—all wild feathers and happy, chirpy tones. This tone didn’t match that narrative at all.

                “Nobody really knows,” she said, turning her back on Bella again. “We have our suspicions. He was seventeen.”

                “And Cecelia—”

                “I met Cecelia one time nearly six years ago,” Hattie’s ragged monotone might as well have been a shout. “I held her in my arms and I thought, if something so precious can be born into this hellish world, then clearly it can’t be so hellish after all. I hold on to that picture because it is a reminder of the Hattie I had been then, the Hattie who held a newborn baby and thought, of all the families she could’ve been born to, of all the people her light could’ve touched—some deity decided to give her to _us_.

                “Bella, I think about Cecelia to this day. Does she look like him? Is she in school? Does she know how many people love her? I received word in January that Cedric’s father, _Cecelia’s_ father, was killed. I have nightmares every night about whose death I’ll get news of next. With each passing day without word from my friends back home, my panic grows. I haven’t heard from anybody in _seven weeks._ But still, somehow, I hold that picture in my hands and I think of Cecelia’s sweet face and I know that any world that could give me _her_ is worth holding on hope for.”

                Hattie’s shoulders heaved breathlessly when she finished her rant. Tears flowed freely down her face and Bella was shocked. She honestly had never been more speechless in her entire life.

                “Hattie, I’m so…” confused? Sorry? Either would work in this situation, but neither felt appropriate. She wondered why Hattie’s friends hadn’t contacted her in so long. She wondered why they were dying. She wondered what Hattie had gone through to get her into this state, to make her think so poorly of the world.

                She just

_wondered._

                “I told you it was complicated,” Hattie said, wiping her eyes again. Slowly she seemed to regain her composure, though she didn’t let go of the picture of Cecelia and Cedric. “There are so many things you don’t know.”

                Was it strange that Bella thought she sounded just a little bit like Edward, then? Cryptic and self-loathing, but with a longing to unburden herself.

                “I would listen,” Bella promised. “If you wanted me to.”

                “It’s not a matter of want,” Hattie whispered, and went back to her journal.

                Afterward, it took Bella an embarrassingly long time to compose herself. She stared at the screen of Hattie’s laptop, the colorful **Google** logo, purposely not looking in her cousin’s direction. Occasionally, though, in her peripheral, she saw the tremors running through Hattie’s shoulders.

 _It’s not a matter of want,_ Bella thought, bewildered, shaken. What sort of secret was Hattie hiding?

                Sighing, listening to the idle scratch of Hattie’s pen on paper, Bella went back to her previous issue. She needed to focus on one thing at a time.

                At least she was reasonably sure that _Hattie_ was human, Bella thought, staring at the query she’d never finished. _Vampire?_

                It felt ridiculous. Her incognito tab stared at her wickedly as she hit enter, seeming to relish the fact that Bella was too ashamed to leave a trail.

                There were, of course, tens of millions of results.

                The first result was Wikipedia, not an entirely reliable source but at least it was a start. The website touted that a vampire was an undead being from folklore which fed on the “vital force” (usually blood) of the living. Apparently, the first appearance of the English word _vampire_ was in the 1700s, written then as _vampyre._

                But vampires existed for millennia in myths and legends. There was the Albanian _shtriga,_ which fed on the blood of infants—Bella crossed that off the list immediately. The Greek had _vrykolakas,_ the Romanians had _strigoi._

                There were movies and TV shows and books dedicated to the subject. The Encyclopedia Britannica, History Channel, and National Geographic all had articles about it.

                Then she found a promising site—Vampires A-Z. Its simplistic, academic layout made it load hilariously quickly, even on Charlie’s weak Wi-Fi connection. Most of the images the site used were broken, perhaps having expired from whatever domain they were once hosted on. Even the ads were old, outdated.

                Still—it was a useful resource for Bella. It contained an alphabetical listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world.

                She read through the descriptions of each myth carefully, thoroughly—even if most were inane, insane, or completely improbable, they were interesting nonetheless. She tried to look for anything that sounded remotely familiar, let alone plausible. Most of the vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates of young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity.

                Only three entries really caught Bella’s attention: the Romanian _Varacolaci_ , a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak _Nelapsi,_ a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the _Stregoni_ _benefici_.

                About the latter there was only one brief sentence.

                _Stregoni benefici:_ An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy to all evil vampires.

                It was a relief, that one small entry: the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

                Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob’s stories or Bella’s own observations. She’d made a little catalogue in her mind as she’d read and carefully compared it to each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob’s criteria: blood-drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

                And there was another problem, one Bella remembered from the small amount of vampire-related media she had consumed, which was backed up by today’s reading—vampires couldn’t come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to cinders. They slept in coffins all day and only came out at night.

                Aggravated, Bella exited the browser, closing the laptop with a small _click._ She felt so embarrassed. Here she was, on a Sunday, sitting in Hattie’s bed researching vampires on a baby-pink laptop. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Maybe it was stress, maybe hitting her head truly _had_ knocked the sense out of her.

                She needed to get out of the house, but there was nowhere she wanted to go that didn’t include a three-day drive. She stormed out of Hattie’s room, scarcely calling out ‘thank you’ as she left.

                After she’d pulled on her boots and her raincoat, Bella stomped out the garage door. She felt like a child, ignoring her truck sullenly as she started east on foot, angling across the yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. Beau was in the kitchen window, looking like he’d just woken up. When he noticed her, he waved, but she didn’t respond.

                It didn’t take long until she was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible. The only sound was the squish of damp earth under her feet, the sudden cries of jays filtering down through the trees.

                Bella followed the narrow trail into the forest for a long time, losing herself in her anger. It was obvious nobody used the trail frequently—there were few neighbors, and Bella couldn’t exactly picture Charlie out here. Perhaps Hattie, with her love of all things athletic…but since the accident, even she hadn’t been out here. Fallen trees—some young, some as big around as Bella—littered the path. One path was completely blocked by the trunk of a huge tree, and Bella split off onto a fork in the trail to avoid climbing over it.

                Her anger slowly ebbed, and when it did, Bella slowed. She mucked about, slowly, until she spotted another fallen tree resting against the trunk of one of its neighbors. This one must’ve fallen more recently, as it wasn’t completely covered in the carpet of moss everything else was. Bella used it as a bench, tucking her rain jacket between herself and the damp bark, leaning against the tree behind her.

                She had overestimated herself—this was the wrong place to come when her nerves were jacked up, her brain short-circuiting. It was too deep, too dark…too alike to all of the scary stories she’d been reading. Now that there was no longer the sound of her soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. Even the birds were quiet. The ferns stood higher than her head now that she was seated, and she knew that someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and never see her.

                Here in the trees, it was much easier for her to believe the absurdities that had embarrassed her before. Nothing had changed in the forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in the green haze than they had in Hattie’s clear-cut bedroom.

                It began to rain, rustling the leaves and the grass. Bella focused on the sound as she sat there, contemplating.

                There were two vital questions that she needed to answer, unwilling though she were.

                First, she had to decide if what Jacob had said about the Cullens could possibly be true.

                Immediately her mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly—and morbid—to believe such ridiculous notions. But what, then? There was no rational explanation for how she was alive at that very moment. She listed again in her head the things she’d witnessed: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from gold to black, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more—small things that registered slowly—how they seemed to eat with forced, mechanical movements…as if it were an obligation rather than a need. The disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way he sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases better fit to the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom.

                He had skipped class the day they’d done blood typing. He hadn’t said no to the beach trip until he knew where they were going. He seemed to know what everyone was thinking…except her family.

                Bella even remembered the car accident—Hattie’s blood. His family had been there one second and gone the next. Edward had been staring at the blood on his hands, shaking intensely, like he was…strained. Even his eyes, previously golden, had gone pitch black…

                He told her he was the villain, he was dangerous.

                Could the Cullens be vampires?

                Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of her incredulous eyes. Whether it was Jacob’s cold ones or Bella’s own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was not…human. He was something more.

                So, the answer was—maybe. That would have to do for now.

                And, the most important question of all. What would she do if it were true?

                If Edward was a vampire—she could hardly make herself think the words—then what would she do? The thought of involving Hattie or even Beau crossed her mind, but she tossed it out. Bella couldn’t even believe herself; anyone else, even those closest to her, would have her committed.

                There were only two options that seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: be smart, avoid him as much as possible. Cancel their plans, go back to ignoring each other as much as possible. Tell him to leave her alone—and mean it.

                She was gripped with the sudden agony of despair as she considered that alternative. Her mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping to the next option.

                Bella could act exactly as she had been. After all, if Edward was something…sinister, he’d done nothing to hurt her so far. In fact, she wouldn’t even be alive if he hadn’t acted so quickly. So quickly, she thought to herself, it could have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could it be? Her mind spun around in answerless circles.

                There was one thing Bella was sure of, if she was sure of anything. The dark Edward in her dreams had been a manifestation of her fear of the words Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when she’d screamed out in terror at the werewolf’s lunge, it wasn’t fear of the wolf that brought the cry of ‘no’ to her lips. It was the fear that Edward would be harmed—even as he called to her with Tyler’s blood running down his shirt, she’d feared for him.

                So, that was her answer then. Bella didn’t know if it had ever been a choice—she was already in too deep.  Now that she knew— _if_ she knew—there was nothing to be done about her frightening secret.

                Because, when she thought of him—of his voice, of his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality—she wanted nothing more than to be with him right that moment. Even if…no, she couldn’t think it. Not there, alone in the darkening forest.

                Bella rose, shivering, from her place of concealment, following the path. Her loft beckoned her with promises of warmth and dry socks, and the company of others to settle her unease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday :) I just felt like posting another chapter, since I started working on Chapter 40 last night. And holy wow, chapter 39 pushed this story up to 210,000 WORDS!! So I felt like celebrating. 
> 
> Anyways if you have any comments or questions, leave them below! I answer every comment.


	15. Chapter 15

_“Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, how it holds you in place.” ―[Sarah Dessen](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2987.Sarah_Dessen)_

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                Beau looked up as Bella trailed in.  It was lunchtime now and he had a sandwich before him at the table. He was working on a paper for English which was due on Wednesday, but it wasn’t coming along very well. He was too caught up in his thoughts about everything else to think about Shakespeare.

                Even though he was excited to go to the dance with Angela, Beau was still enthralled by the mysterious Edythe Cullen. He’d cycled through all sorts of emotions concerning her: longing—even that first day when he met her curious, honey-gold eyes—and curiosity of his own, when his presence seemed to drive her to frustration. If they weren’t in class, she’d leave the area when he entered it. Then, of course, after Bella and Hattie’s accident when, for some reason, Edythe stopped looking at him. She didn’t seem interested by him anymore, but in an entirely manufactured way. It was like she was pretending he was uninteresting.

                It drove him mad. It made him question if she was even a likeable person, if she pretended he was nothing.

                That was part of the reason he’d allowed his crush on Angela to fester and boil over. It was… _easier,_ even if that felt a bit smarmy to say. Angela was smart, and easy-going, and genuine, and cute. She was, first and foremost, his friend. That was what he wanted to base a relationship on—if he couldn’t be friends with his partner, how could they build a successful relationship?

                And, truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could be friends with Edythe Cullen. He tried not to judge a book by its cover, but the way she acted was…petty, sullen. Like a small child playing tricks.

                Beau took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly, thinking about the bronze-haired girl. He had teased Bella about being so obsessed with Edward Cullen, but to be honest—he was pretty absorbed with Edythe. There was just something about her…she was different from the other girls in Forks.

                She was small without being delicate, with sinewy muscles under her pale skin. Her bronze hair and golden eyes were otherworldly, somehow. Edythe moved with a grace that was almost unnatural.

                Actually—she reminded him a lot of Hattie, in a way. Hattie was also small (rather smaller than Edythe, truth be told). Hattie was relatively toned and held herself in the same self-assured, strong way that Edythe did. Even the eyes—Hattie’s were green, but both girls’ eyes had an unearthly knowledge behind them.

                The only thing Hattie lacked was the sheer level of beauty that Edythe had. Sure, his cousin was cute (Beau often thought of her like a baby bird), but she was nowhere near the same level as Edythe or the other Cullens. She had a normal, everyday sort of beauty: a clear complexion, a bright face. Most of her good looks were, in Beau’s opinion, built on Hattie’s personality. She was endearing, and that went a long way.

                “Are you working on the English paper?” Bella finally said, in lieu of greeting. She was fixing her own lunch now, having shed her raincoat by the door.

                Beau glanced up, swallowing his food. “Uh-huh. Stupid Shakespeare.”

                “There’s nothing wrong with Shakespeare,” Bella chuckled, rolling her eyes. He noticed that her demeanor was lighter than when he’d seen her heading out this morning—perhaps she’d really needed to take a breather. “Let me go get my books, I’ll join you.”

                “See if Hattie wants to come, too,” Beau advised.

                “I’ll try,” Bella agreed, but she looked weary. “I’m not sure if she will, though. She’s…having a rough day.”

                Beau’s eyes, which had drifted back to his paper, shot up to his sister’s. She had a faraway look in her eyes, deep in thought. He had never seen Hattie have a ‘rough day’ (not rough enough that she would lock herself away, at least). Beau couldn’t imagine what had caused it.

                “What happened?” he questioned. “She was fine last night.”

                “I—might have pried a little,” Bella admitted. “I borrowed her laptop and the password was a name, so I asked about it. She got really upset, so I told her I was there if she needed someone to listen.”

                “That doesn’t seem like prying. Why would that upset her?” Beau wondered.

                “Um…I don’t know, Beau. It seems like Hattie’s been through a lot more than either of us realized. She hasn’t heard from home in nearly two months. She’s stressed. I—I think she needs someone, but she’s afraid to need someone.”

                Beau placed his chin in his hand, staring at the table unseeingly. He’d noticed that, too. He spent most of his schooldays with their cousin: they had conversations that didn’t include Bella. But whenever he tried to ask about her life back in the UK, out of curiosity or in a bonding attempt, she tended to give him answers that seemed to be half-truths, or just vague non-answers.

                He’d asked her about this ‘Professor’ man she’d been tutored by for eleven years, wondering what subjects she’d learned from him. Hattie had told him “Oh, a little of everything.” She wouldn’t elaborate, either.

                Or when he’d asked her about her friends—surely Hattie, who was friendly, chipper, outgoing, athletic…surely she’d have friends. But she’d gotten quiet and only answered, “I didn’t get to see them much, but we talked a lot.” He’d thought this was strange—she never talked to them here. “It’s…really difficult to contact them from here,” she’d told him.

                And her parents—she either didn’t know, or wouldn’t say, _anything_ about them. Perhaps it was a sore subject, but often he thought he saw longing in her eyes when he asked questions.

                And she never talked about home. In fact, she didn’t seem to associate the UK with “home” at all, even with her strong since of patriotism. It was always _my people,_ not _my country:_ “My people mostly keep to themselves, so I didn’t get to see my friends much.” Or “My people still prefer letters to technology.”

                “D’you think we need to have, like, an intervention or something? With Charlie?” Beau asked, dreading it even as he said it.

                “No, Beau,” Bella sighed. “I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t _want_ to talk about it. I think it’s more that she… _can’t_.”

                “You think it was that bad?” Beau asked, eyebrows raising. He tried to figure out what his sister was implying. Abuse? Neglect? What horrors did she think Hattie had gone through?

                “No—‘can’t’ like _not_ _allowed_.”

                Beau’s mind went utterly blank at that moment. Not allowed…to talk about her life before them?

                “Why do you think that?” he demanded, flailing around in his brain to latch on to any cognitive thought processes.

                “Because she flat-out told me there were things she couldn’t tell me,” Bella stated, bluntly. “She said it wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ to, obviously the implication being that she just couldn’t.”

                “What do you think is going on?” Beau questioned. He was trying to connect pieces, but everything he came up with sounded embarrassingly absurd. “Like, witness protection program? A spy? A cult?”

                He had been joking, trying to lighten the mood, but he could tell his words impacted Bella.

                “I don’t know about a spy,” Bella said slowly. “But a cult seems plausible from what little I know. Her friend Cedric was killed a couple of years ago and she said that nobody knew what happened, but that they suspected. Then his dad died in January. And she told me she’s been having nightmares about other people dying. Plus, she keeps talking about ‘her people’. So, possibly?”

                “I can’t believe we’re discussing this right now,” Beau told her. “Seriously? A cult, Bella?”

                “I don’t know what to think!” Bella said indignantly. “Besides, you said it—not me!”

                Beau used this new information to try and fill in the puzzle that was Heather Potter. From what little he knew about cults, they tended to be religious in origin. Hattie wasn’t religious, or if she was, she kept it on the down low. And religious cults tended to be pretty poor for females, who were stereotypically married off young. If Hattie had been part of a cult, maybe they’d tried to marry her off, so she ran away? And that would explain why she would keep her religion to herself, trying to stay under the radar.

                But it all felt too much like speculation—it just didn’t strike Beau as the correct answer. (Or maybe it was wishful thinking. Perhaps he hated the idea of it so much that he refused to believe it.)

                Still, he shook his head. “No, Bella, I think that we’re pretty far off base. Just…we’ll keep an eye on her. If she gets worse, we’ll have to involve Charlie.”

                His sister nodded, still looking like she was entertaining the idea.

—x—

                Hattie sat glumly at her desk, staring down at her grimoire. Her sleep the previous night hadn’t been uninterrupted—she dreamt, as she told Bella, about people she loved dying.

                This was a recurring theme.

                Most often her dreams centered on Professor. Her dreamscape was always something fantastic: a jungle, a dungeon, pyramids in Egypt. He was, as his last missive said, “recruiting”—in Hattie’s dreams they were nondescript, unassuming people. In the end they always turned out to be traitors who would turn Severus in for crimes against the regime, and Hattie would wake up as he was being brutally murdered.

                More recently, though, Hattie had been dreaming of Bella or Beau dying. Somehow the regime found her—perhaps due to her magic, perhaps they’d tortured it out of Severus (something she couldn’t fathom). Hattie didn’t know much about the leader of the regime, a man whose ego was so large he called himself the Dark Lord. He always featured in these dreams, personally coming to shred Hattie’s family to pieces.

                One of the most disturbing parts of this was that the Dark Lord was always…handsome. He had slick dark hair, styled in a perfect coif atop his head. His pointy, aristocratic features made him look more bureaucratic than evil. He would speak to her in parseltongue, almost sadly, with a lopsided grin on his lips. “It’s a shame,” he would say. “You could be great, you know.”

                Sometimes Hattie dreamt that she reached out and took his hand. These dreams were always the worst—watching herself join his regime, going against everything she’d ever been taught. Slaughtering her own people. Hattie vastly preferred the nightmares where she refused his hand, dying tall and proud.

                It was a testament to how awful the regime was, that she would prefer death to submission.

                But these more recent nightmares had prompted Hattie to think about how utterly unprotected the Swan residence was. Even Petunia’s house had been warded—atop the blood wards that were Lily Potter’s dying sacrifice, Professor had added as many wards as he could without risk of the house becoming a hotspot.

                So, all morning Hattie had been refreshing her knowledge of Ancient Runes, something she’d never truly excelled at. During her schooling with the man who taught her runes, she’d drawn different ward schemes in one of her grimoires—a forethought that Hattie found herself unexpectedly grateful for.

                There was only one issue Hattie couldn’t stop worrying about. Were she to add rune wards to the Swan residence, it would be the only spark of magic in the surrounding area. At _least_ the only magic in Forks. It would be a beacon: “Hello, here I am, come get me!”

                Thus, Hattie was deliberating which was worse: being unprotected in the case that a dark wizard found her family, or putting up protections with the risk of them leading a dark wizard straight to her?

                She couldn’t decide on the answer.

                There were deciding factors leaning either way, honestly. Wand-wielders couldn’t feel magic unless they were incredibly powerful, so her beacon would only be to those raised the way Hattie had been. At the same point, even then there was no guarantee they would be friendly wizards—and any wards she was capable of creating by herself wouldn’t be enough to protect her from a truly powerful wizard, anyways. Short of casting a Fidelius on the whole property (which would cause a whole slew of problems for her, not the least that it was a two-person spell which she did not know how to cast), Hattie had no true way of making Charlie’s property impenetrable.

                So, with a reluctant sigh, Hattie closed the old grimoire. It made a satisfying _thunk_ , the smell of parchment and ink wafting up into her nose. Her eyes fluttered closed.

                There were so many things she could be doing—her English assignment, for example—but she found herself staring at the same set of objects she always did.

                The galleon with the protean charm, its message still set to _PROF MSG ME IF SAFE,_ lay before her on her desk. To its right was the gilded, beautiful two-way-mirror which, as usual, showed only Hattie’s tired eyes. And then, furthest to the right, the bundle of letters she’d received in January.

                It was now going on the second week of March.

                Hattie had stopped telling herself he was going to send her a note. Perhaps he’d been kidnapped—perhaps he truly was just busy—perhaps he had forgotten about her. Perhaps he thought it would be easier for her to adjust to her new, primarily muggle, life, were he to butt out. Perhaps he was dead.

 _No,_ Hattie told herself, heart fluttering. For all of Severus Snape’s flaws, he was her closest ally—it was he who had raised her, he who had protected her, he who she had always thought of as a father-figure, even when he pushed her away. Somehow, Hattie thought, if Severus Snape was killed—she would feel it. There would be some part of her soul, some part of her magic—so intrinsically connected to his—that would just _know._ There would be some part of her that would be different.

                He couldn’t be dead.

                Let him be anything else. Let him be tied in a dungeon in the Scottish Highlands—let him be trapped in a sarcophagus in Egypt—let him be poisoned by a snake in the Amazon rainforest. These were all things she could save him from.

                From death he would be unrecoverable.

                Hattie set her shoulders— _shoulder,_ really, only her good arm was mobile—in determination. Rubbing her thumb over the face of the galleon, she changed the message.

                _PROF: YOU HAVE 2 DAYS. H._

                It had been long enough. She’d given him two months to contact her, with no pressure—she’d been uncharacteristically patient. Enough was enough.

                Hattie was being lenient, really. Two whole days to contact her? That was more than enough time.

                For good measure, in case he had done something incredibly stupid and misplaced his coin, she jotted out a quick letter.

                _Professor—_

_It has been two months. I am worried. I am restless. Do not make the mistake of keeping me in the dark._

_You have until Tuesday night my time (Wednesday morning your time) to contact me._

                _I am making it easy. Use the galleon. Use the mirror. Send me a note. Hell, even call my cellphone—I will leave the number on the note._

_However you do it, just let me know you’re alive._

_Hattie._

—x—

**Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**Bozo: ITS SUNNY**

**ITS ACTUALLY SUNNY**

**OPEN UR WINDOW**

**PRAISE JESUS**

**Mrs. Cullen: beau it’s 5am**

**what do u mean its sunny**

**Hattie-Dearest: wait no bella he’s right**

**it’s actually warm too**

**Bozo: who sold their soul to the devil**

**Mrs. Cullen: beau it’s 5am**

**stop txting me**

**Hattie-Dearest: ugh my window is so hard to open**

**bella when you get up will you come help me**

**Mrs. Cullen: FINE im AWAKE now i guess**

**Bozo: its monday anyways**

**Mrs. Cullen: beau why r u abwake anyways**

**ur always the last one up**

**Hattie-Dearest: this is a very good question**

**_// Bozo is typing…_ **

**Mrs. Cullen: u cant just type for a few seconds and then stop typing**

**Its rude**

**It makes people curious**

**Hattie-Dearest: now we’re gonna assume its worse than it is**

**Mrs. Cullen: ^^^**

**Bozo: boy things**

**Mrs. Cullen: youre literally gonna blame this on you finally going thru puberty**

**?**

**Hattie-Dearest: you haven’t gone through puberty yet?**

**Bozo: damn it that was worse than just telling u the truth**

**OF COURSE I WENT THRU PUBERTY ALREADY HATTIE**

**IM SIX FREAKING FEET TALL**

**BELLA WHY DO U HAVE TO DO THIS TO ME**

**Mrs. Cullen: (laughing emojis)**

**Hattie-Dearest: im very confused**

**Bozo: im just excited to see angela okay**

**Mrs. Cullen: see now was that so hard?**

**Hattie-Dearest: yeah i dont really see why you tried to hide it**

**Bozo: w/e just hurry up i wanna get out of this house**

—x—

                Bella raked a brush through her hair, having thrown on her clothes in a hurry. Beau and Hattie had been right: sunlight filtered through her window, bright yellow and on the verge of warm. When she’d hurried to the window, she noted there was hardly a cloud in the sky.

                Eager to air out her room, which still had the vague stench of fresh paint after all these weeks, Bella wrenched open the window. It opened surprisingly smoothly and silently for a window she was pretty sure hadn’t been opened in years—before this was a loft, it was a garage attic nobody ever used.

                Hattie’s, on the other hand, was a pain to open. The girl had managed to get it halfway up with her one hand, and was still attempting to open it (using her whole meager bodyweight) when Bella got there. Between the two of them they managed to get it, though it was certainly an ordeal.

                They met Beau in the kitchen, basking in the sun as much as possible on their three-step walk outside.

                Charlie was still there, and picked up on all of their eager moods pretty quickly. His eyes flashed between their faces, the giddiness permeating the room.

                “Nice day out,” he commented, lips pursed to hold back a smile.

                The trio cheered as if they were wild animals. Charlie watched them horse around with a private smile.

                Bella thought that when Charlie smiled it was easier to see why her mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he’d purportedly been had faded before Bella had known him—as had the curly brown hair, the same color (if not texture) as her own. When he smiled, she could see a little of the man who had run away with Renee when she was just two years older than Bella and Beau were now.

                On the way out the door, Beau considered his rain jacket.

                “D’you think it’d be tempting fate too much, you know, to leave it behind?”

                “Oh, definitely,” Bella agreed. Her own rain jacket was waiting outside the door with her schoolbag. “If you screw up this beautiful day by leaving your rain jacket behind, I’ll make sure you walk home.”

                “Hey!” her brother shouted, shoving her playfully out the door. But he snatched his jacket off the hook anyways.

                They were some of the first people to school—mainly due to their excitement over the sun. Beau had used some elbow grease and had managed to get the windows in the truck almost completely rolled down, letting the warm wind whip their hair around.

                They found themselves lounging at one of the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The warm sun had thoroughly dried the ancient wood and they all collapsed upon it.

                Beau took out his homework, going over the answers to his US History assignment with a keen eye. Hattie stretched herself out like a cat, hunched over the picnic table—getting some sun, perhaps, on her pale, pale shoulders. Bella used the flat of her cousin’s head as a prop for her novel, idly flipping through the pages.

                Before long Beau and Hattie were playing tic-tac-toe in the margins of his homework. Bella leaned herself back against the picnic table, taking a page out of Hattie’s book and relaxing in the sun—soaking up that Vitamin D while she still could. Her eyes had been closed for a while when she heard her cousin speak in an amused, slightly exasperated tone.

                “Mike alert,” Hattie warned quietly.

                “Urgh,” Bella groaned, sitting up straight. Best not to make herself look any more appealing than he apparently already found her.

                Sure enough, Mike was headed toward them. He, along with the majority of the students Bella could see, was wearing shorts.

                “Hey Mike,” Bella said, finding it hard to be half-hearted on a morning like this.

                He came and sat by her, angling his body away from Beau and Hattie (though he gave the girl a quick wave too). His grin was stretched across his face—Bella couldn’t help being a little bit gratified by the delight he took in her presence.

                “I never noticed—your hair has red in it,” Mike commented. He caught a strand between his fingers.

                “Only in the sun,” Bella responded. She became a bit uncomfortable as he tucked the hair behind her ear, entirely too aware of her siblings in the background snickering.

                Mike made small talk for a little while, seeming flustered when he learned their English essay was due on Wednesday. He seemed even more flustered, and more than a bit lost, when she told him her essay was about whether or not Shakespeare’s treatment of female characters was misogynistic.

                (“A worthy academic,” Hattie had sighed dreamily, fluttering her eyes at Bella. “Fighting the good fight.”)

                “I guess I’ll have to work on it tonight,” Mike said, deflating a little bit. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out.”

                “Oh.” She was taken off-guard—why couldn’t she ever have a pleasant conversation with Mike without it getting awkward? Though, she had to admire his guts: Hattie and Beau sat not a foot behind them, and he had just asked her out. He had to know he’d be getting rejected.

                “Well, we could go to dinner or something…and I could work on it later,” Mike said hopefully.

                “Mike…” Bella sighed. She hated having to turn him down in front of other people, even if said people were her siblings. “I don’t think that would be the best idea.”

                His face fell. “Why?” he asked, his eyes guarded. Bella’s thoughts flickered to Edward, wondering if that’s what he was thinking as well.

                “I think…and if you ever repeat what I’m going to say right now, I will cheerfully beat you to death,” Bella threatened, “but I think that would hurt Jessica’s feelings.”

                He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. “Jessica?”

                “Really, Mike, are you blind?” Bella asked, exasperated.

                The four of them walked to class together in silence after the awkward conversation. Mike seemed to be lost in thought the whole way.

                Later, in Trig, Jessica was bubbling with enthusiasm. She and some of the girls were going to Port Angeles that night to go dress shopping, and she wanted Bella to come, too, even though Bella didn’t need a dress. She was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what Bella would be doing tonight…but that was definitely the wrong path to let her mind wander down.

                So Bella gave her a maybe, saying she’d need to talk to Charlie first.

                “You could invite Hattie,” Jessica offered. There was a guarded look in her eyes. “She doesn’t like me that much, but Angela will be there.”

                The extended invitation softened Bella and she agreed to try and convince Charlie.

                The day passed in a blur, Bella too lost in her own frenzy of anticipation to notice what was going on around her. She was painfully eager to see not just Edward, but all of the Cullens—compare them to the new suspicions that plagued her mind. As she crossed the threshold to the cafeteria, the first tingle of true fear went down her spine. Would they be able to know what she was thinking?

                And then a different feeling jolted through her—would Edward be waiting to sit with her again?

                As was her routine, she glanced first at the Cullens’ table. A shiver of panic trembled in her stomach as she realized it was empty.

                With dwindling optimism, her eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for her. The place was nearly filled—Spanish class had made them late—but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Desolation hit her with crippling strength.

                Bella and Jessica were late enough that everybody was already at their table. She plopped in her usual seat next to Hattie, across from Beau, not even pretending to pay attention to the conversations happening around her. Vaguely, though, she noticed Mike pull out Jessica’s seat for her—and that her face lit up in response.

                Angela tried making conversation about the Shakespeare paper, but could obviously tell that Bella wasn’t all there. In a last ditch attempt at conversation, she, too, invited Bella and Hattie to come with them dress shopping tonight—they both agreed, this time.

                Bella was holding on to a last shred of hope as she entered biology, but when she saw his empty seat, she was hit with a new wave of disappointment.

                The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. Bella was glad to leave campus, free to pout and mope before she went out tonight. But right after she got upstairs, too down to participate in their afternoon study session, Jessica texted.

**Jessica Stanley: MIKE ASKED ME OUT**

**TONIGHT!!!!**

**FOR DINNER!**

**AN ACTUAL DATE!!!**

**Bella Swan: Oh, wow. That’s great, Jess.**

**Jessica Stanley: so I’m gonna have to ditch on our plans**

**You’re cool with this right?**

**Bella Swan: totally**

**Jess im not in to mike**

**Jessica Stanley: what a relief**

**The girls want to go tomorrow instead**

**does that work for you and hattie?**

**Bella Swan: Yeah, that should be fine**

                But, to be honest, Bella was actually sort of disappointed—now she had very little to distract herself with. She spent half an hour on homework but found she just couldn’t focus. She even checked her backlog of emails from Renee, each one getting snippier. Her short response was dull, full of excuses that fell flat even to her own ears.

                She decided to take a raggedy quilt and a book outside into the sun and lay out to read. Her book choices were limited (she refused to let herself think about the fate of her Seattle trip) so she wound up picking her compilation of Jane Austen’s works. After a little while, though, she was fed up—all the heroes were called _Edward_ or _Edmund_ and she was desperately trying to distract herself from _him._ She ended up rolling her sleeves up and sunbathing instead.

                The next thing Bella was conscious of was the sound of Charlie’s cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. She sat up in surprise, realizing the light was low behind the trees—she’d fallen asleep.

                Her neck prickled and she looked around, muddled, with the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

                “Charlie?” she called, but she could hear his door slamming in front of the house. “Beau? Hattie?”

                She jumped up, feeling foolishly edgy. Her soggy quilt and book in hand, she ran inside. Beau and Hattie were still at the table. There was dinner on the stove and the duo was playing some kind of card game, giggling wildly because Hattie was having difficulties due to the cast.

                “Sleeping beauty awakens,” Beau intoned, not even looking at her. “Enjoy your cat nap, princess?”

                “Shut up,” Bella grumbled, trying to shake the paranoid feeling out of her heart. Maybe she’d had a bad dream.

                “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the grass!” There you have it, folks: Beaufort Swan, comedy genius.

                Hattie was nicer about it, still grinning impishly. “Are you feeling alright? You were pretty off at school, too.”

                “Yeah, just a bad mood I guess,” Bella said, brushing it off. “Thanks for putting dinner on.”

                Charlie came round the corner and sniffing the air appreciatively. Hattie had put some fish on, by the smell hanging heavily in the kitchen—Charlie could probably live off the stuff and never get tired of it.

                After dinner they played cards as a family, just for something to do. Charlie wasn’t really that great at it (neither was Hattie, truth be told) but he seemed to be happy just doing something together. It felt good, despite Bella’s mood, to make him happy.

                Hattie ended up bringing the shopping trip up—Bella had forgotten in her post-nap haze.

                “Uncle Charlie, some of the girls invited Bella and I to go dress shopping with them tomorrow. In Port Angeles. Do you mind if we go with them?”

                He looked up from his hand. “Who’s all goin’?”

                “Jessica Stanley,” Hattie ticked off on her finger, looking surprisingly neutral. “She is Mr. Newton’s son’s date. And Beau’s date’s going to be there—Angela Weber. Plus me and Bella, and McKayla Newton, and Lauren Mallory probably. Just a bunch of us.”

                He seemed confused, turning to look at Bella. “But you’re not going to the dance, right?”

                “No, dad,” Bella sighed. “I’m just going to supervise. You know—help them find dresses, tell them if they look good.”

                 “Well, okay,” he seemed to realize he was out of his depth. “Beau, you’re not going?”

                “It’s a girl’s night,” Beau piped in, looking horrified at the thought of spending hours in a women’s dressing room. “I think I’m good.”

                “Well…alright,” Charlie grunted. “But it’s a school night.”

                “We’re leaving right after school, so we can get back early,” Bella explained.

                “I don’t want to be out that long anyways,” Hattie agreed. “Get my dress, get some dinner, get home.”

                Bella gave her cousin an amused look, wondering if her eagerness to keep the trip short had to do with her awkward, previous (current?) dislike of Jessica. Bella had told her that Jess invited her originally, which had seemed to make Hattie warm up a little toward the curly-haired girl.

                It would be nice if Hattie and Jessica could get along, though to be honest Bella could sort of understand why they didn’t. Jess could be pretty vapid sometimes, more concerned with popularity and looking good than anything else. Hattie just didn’t seem to care about that sort of thing—she outright avoided most people and she didn’t really care what they thought of her quirks. She did like dressing up though, something Bella thought the duo would have in common if they played nice for a little bit.

                The following morning was sunny again. Bella awakened with a  renewed hope (one which she tried desperately to squash). She decided to dress a little nicer today in anticipation of their trip, and asked Hattie a little shyly to borrow some clothes.

                Hattie didn’t have an _enormous_ amount of clothes, but she had a lot of variety: the girl liked to play dress-up. Vintage skirts and blouses, leggings, different styles and cuts of jeans and tops, sun dresses. Recently Hattie went through an online shopping phase and bought a bunch of cheap Japanese clothes (which all made her look like a child, Bella thought with disdain, fingering a hoodie with cat ears on it).

                But Bella did find something suitable, a royal blue off the shoulder blouse with fancy cutouts on the front. It was oblong and loose, flowy. Bella was just a little taller than Hattie, a little curvier, so she filled it out better—it made her feel confident and a little sexy. She paired it with her own nicer jeans.

                “Wow, that top looks great on you,” Hattie said happily, pulling her hair back with the headband she always wore. “You should keep it—it suits you better anyways.”

                They arrived at school with barely enough time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, Bella circled the parking lot looking for a space—while also searching for a certain shiny Volvo that was clearly absent. They had to rush in to class, slightly breathless. Bella was subdued, eyes looking down at her desk, when the final bell rang.

                It was the same as yesterday—she couldn’t keep little sprouts of hope from budding in her mind, only to have them squashed painfully as she searched the lunchroom and sat at her empty biology table.

                The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for that night, made all the more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. Bella was anxious to get out of town so she could stop glancing over her shoulder, hoping for him to appear out of the blue like he always did. She vowed to herself that she’d be in a good mood tonight so she wouldn’t ruin the other girls’ enjoyment in the dress hunting.

                Seeing Hattie’s closet had made Bella think perhaps she could do a little clothes shopping of her own. (She refused to think that she might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn’t cancel without at least telling her.)

                After school Beau took the truck and Hattie and Bella’s schoolbags with him home. Jessica would be driving for the night, in her old white Mercury that would not have fit everyone had Lauren come as planned.

                Bella’s excitement only grew as they left Forks, seeing the town growing smaller in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little bit of a filler chapter, but reading it makes me excited for things to come! I feel like the first 15 chapters are building up, and then afterward, everything finally starts happening--SO MUCH happens in the rest of the story so far, chapter 16 through chapter 40, that I can't believe we're at chapter 15 and basically nothing has happened.  
> The plot of Twilight finally thickens after Chapter 8 (which is next chapter in Stars), so we have that to look forward to. And because I'm running Bella and Hattie's stories parallel to each other, everything really starts happening for Hattie soon afterward. I'm just anxious/worried to see if you guys like Hattie's story as much as I do! 
> 
> Anyways, if you liked this chapter, please drop me a comment! I answer every comment, and if you have any questions, I'll answer just about everything!  
> Thanks!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Follows the events of Twilight: 8

_“Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will.” ―_ [ _John Green_ ](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1406384.John_Green)

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                Jessica drove like a maniac, in Hattie’s opinion. (Possibly biased.) Still, they made it to Port Angeles by four, which was pretty good time.

                Hattie had never had a “girl’s night” before, unless you included the fancy tea parties she was forced into joining. Even by that token, these two activities were _nothing_ alike. There was no forced small-talk, no passive aggressive remarks being thrown. Petunia would’ve thought this was entirely uncivilized.

                They listened to a whiny sort of rock music that Hattie was actually really digging, while the girls chatted about boys. Jessica had apparently gone out with Mike the previous night and she jabbered on about it for a while—about how she hoped that by Saturday they would’ve progressed to the first-kiss stage.

                Hattie reluctantly related to this. She didn’t get to see Jacob very much, but every time it seemed like he was going to kiss her, somebody—usually a Swan somebody—would interrupt. She held on hope that their first kiss kept being interrupted because it wasn’t the right time, because there would be a better, more perfect time. Her first kiss with Jacob, after all, would be her first kiss ever.

                (You didn’t get a lot of boy time when you were constantly studying or being a barbie doll. Plus, the neighbors thought she was pretty and well-behaved, but they didn’t want their sons around her. “There’s just something peculiar about that girl.”)

                Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist town. Hattie loved Forks, but she could see why Port Angeles would draw the crowd: it was much more polished and quaint. Forks had that sort of small-country-town vibe without being a country town. Jessica drove them straight to a big department store, a few streets in from boardwalk.

                Hattie was pretty excited about trying on dresses, frankly. She even found herself giggling along with the other girls as they walked inside. She looped her arm through Bella’s, much to the surprise of her cousin, and gave her a wicked smile.

                “Let’s enjoy ourselves, okay?” she murmured. “Maybe we can sneak out of here later and go explore boardwalk.”

                Bella’s eyes lit up. “Well, I _did_ see a bookstore.”

                “Sounds like a date,” Hattie giggled.

                The dance was semi-formal, which Hattie didn’t really understand. She was picturing puffy, colorful tulle gowns, like you saw in the movies—for some reason she was getting the feeling this wouldn’t be the case. Which was actually sort of a relief.

                Jessica and Angela seemed gobsmacked that Bella had never gone to a dance before. They were asking her all sorts of questions and making her uncomfortable, so Hattie piped in.

                “Yeah, I have never been to one either.”

                Jessica stopped short and stared at her unbelievingly. “ _You’ve_ never been to a dance?” she asked, in a tone that stated she clearly did not accept it one bit.

                Hattie hadn’t been expecting that response. “Well, no. I haven’t.”

                “You love dancing,” Angela disagreed. “Are you kidding me?”

                “My aunt was strict,” Hattie said, by way of explanation.

                “So, you’ve like, never had a boyfriend either?” McKayla asked. She was blushing light pink. McKayla was a lot more subdued than her brother was—they were what Bella called Irish Twins, which meant they were not twins but were siblings born in the same year. McKayla tended to be quieter and let Mike be the exuberant one, but she was a sweet girl.

                “No,” Hattie said. “Like I said, my aunt was strict.”

                “But you’re so cute!” squeaked Jessica. This information was clearly not computing for her. “Boys love you! You never snuck around? What’d you do for fun?”

                Hattie hesitated, glancing at Bella. She didn’t really regret her outburst from the other day, but it _had_ been more information than Bella needed. This time she’d be more careful.

                “I did not really have time, anyways,” Hattie shrugged. “I had to be perfect. I went to school and I had to have perfect grades. After school I had to learn how to take care of a household. Then my aunt made me go to tea parties—yes, full on tea parties with the neighbors in fancy sun dresses. And most days I had a tutor who I spent hours with, too.”

                The girls were hanging on to her every word. It struck Hattie that, even though she’d been going to school with these girls for over three months now, this was probably the most she’d ever said to them. Angela was her closest friend, bar Bella and Beau, and Hattie hadn’t even said this much to her.

                “That’s why you always wear fancy clothes to school,” McKayla gushed. “You always look so put together.”

                “She looks like a 50s housewife, you mean,” Jessica laughed, but it wasn’t in a mean way.

                “I could probably pass as a 50s housewife,” Hattie agreed, surprised to find herself laughing too. “I do not like wearing heels though, is that a deal-breaker?”

                “Probably,” Jessica decided. “In the pictures you always see them wearing heels.”

                “Speaking of heels,” Bella piped in. “How about we start trying on dresses?”

                The dress selection wasn’t huge. McKayla, who was average in stature, found several dresses pretty easily. Angela, and Jessica and Hattie, had a harder time—for similar reasons. Jessica and Hattie were both very small, petite. Angela was tall and thin. All the dresses the trio found were respectively too long or too short.

                Eventually they found a couple of dresses that would work and began trying them on.

                Hattie was surprised at how much she enjoyed herself. She liked watching the other girls find their dresses just as much as she enjoyed trying on her own and deliberating.

                Jessica ended up going with a shocking knee-length electric blue number—it looked nice on her, but very eye-grabbing. (Hattie privately thought this was the point.) Angela chose a soft pink dress that draped around her frame nicely and flattered her slightly darker skin tone. McKayla’s was a simple, elegant black dress, which looked beautiful on her. It really made her blond curls pop.

                Hattie’s dress…it was such a hard decision. She tried imagining Jacob’s reaction to them—or more importantly, to her wearing them. She made up a scenario in her head where he was so blown away by her vast, fictitious beauty that he swept her off her feet and proclaimed that she was his. It left her blushing, staring at herself in the mirror.

                “I think you should choose this one,” Bella said, leaning against the frame of the fitting room door. Though her words were friendly, she looked irritated. “You look like a princess.”

                “I feel like a princess,” Hattie murmured, running her hand down her tummy. The dress was cranberry-colored, the sort of off-the-shoulder top where the bustline went straight across her chest and melded into sleeves. The skirt was ruffled, a little shorter in the front than in the back. With the black flats Hattie had on, and the way her long, curly hair fell over her shoulders, she felt like a princess meeting her disciples.

                “It’s pretty practical too,” Bella added as they walked out to show the dress to the others. Her voice was monotone. “I think if you went on a nice date, you could pull this off.”

                “Alright, what’s with you?” Hattie demanded, before they could reach the girls. “I thought we were having fun.”

                “We were,” Bella sighed. “Jess just told me that Tyler is telling everyone I’m going to prom with him.”

                Hattie frowned, eyebrows pulling together. “You don’t even like him.”

                “I know.”

                “He hit you with a car.”

                “He hit _you_ with a car. I was just in the way.”

                “Still, the point stands.”

                “Yeah. That’s why I’m irritated.” Bella clucked. Hattie folded her dress over her arm as they joined the others near the shoes.

                “You should probably say something to him,” Hattie told her quietly, before she ventured into the shoe aisle.

                Bella and Angela were in the next aisle chatting quietly—Angela was pretty tall, so her feet were bigger. Hattie heard something about the Cullens and backpacking before Jessica converged on her.

                “Hattie, why don’t you like me?”

                Hattie’s head shot up. She was blinking rapidly, one of her feet bare, the other with a small black heel on it. She hadn’t expected the question.

                “Who told you that?” she demanded, wracking her brain.

                “Nobody had to tell me.” Jessica insisted, frowning. “You just act like you don’t like me.”

                “I did not mean to come off as rude,” Hattie said slowly. “I just think some of the things you say about people, especially the Cullens, are rude.”

                “I didn’t mean to be rude, I just—”

                “Like to gossip,” Hattie finished wryly.

                Jessica was blushing, not looking at her.

                “There is nothing wrong with a little harmless gossip,” Hattie continued—even though she sort of hated mindless gossip. It reminded her too much of her aunt. “But you cannot just go spreading hurtful things, especially if you don’t have the whole story.”

                “I guess you’re right,” Jessica muttered.

                “I am just saying that if I decided to gossip about you right now, I could say—Oh, Jessica just really wants to get her first kiss with Mike. And that would not feel very nice, having that spread around.”

                Jessica nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…well, I guess I did. It’s just easy to get caught up when people are listening to you.”

                After they finished shopping, they had planned to go get dinner—but dress shopping hadn’t taken as long as they thought it would. Jessica, Angela, and McKayla decided to take their things back to the car and then go down to the bay.

                “I think Bella and I are going to go to that bookshop,” Hattie told them. “Would you mind taking my things to the car with you?”

                The girls protested a little bit, but Hattie and Bella encouraged them to go have fun. They didn’t realize how preoccupied one could become in a bookstore. After a moment, they walked off, chattering happily, and Hattie and Bella headed in the opposite direction.

                Hattie had never stopped being aware of the time—how close it was to the cut-off date she’d given Severus. It was now Tuesday evening, and though he had a few hours to contact her he was cutting it pretty close. This was another reason she wanted to get home early. If he sent her a missive she wouldn’t be able to open it unless she was in privacy…how was she supposed to explain how she magically received a letter?

                Besides the truth, of course.

                Hattie was being extra self-aware tonight for that reason: making sure she wouldn’t be surprised if something were to be banished into her pocket. She was thinking Severus would contact her via letter or the protean galleon.

                Thus, she was surprised when her phone rang.

                “Oh, is it Charlie already?” Bella asked. They stopped walking. Hattie pulled her phone out and examined the phone number, frowning.

                “I don’t recognize the number,” she said. Usually she’d just ignore it—there weren’t many people who had her phone number, and those who did were programmed into her phone. But she just had a gut feeling… “Hello?”

                “Hattie.”

                All the stress and anger and fear that she’d been holding inside of her suddenly rushed out, her chest lightening. Her eyes fluttered closed.

                “ _Professor_ ,” she gasped. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until this moment. Bella gave her a searching look, but she shook her head. “Bella, you go on ahead—I will catch up, okay? I just…I just need to talk to him.”

                Her cousin looked like she considered protesting for scarcely a moment, and then nodded. “I’ll be at the bookstore,” she said.

                Then Hattie was alone, cradling her phone in her hand. She didn’t even know what to say to him, how to impress upon him the relief she felt. She thought she’d never hear his stupid snarky voice again.

                “Are you alone?” his voice was calm. It was the same voice he used when he was brewing—patient, like any small movement could cause an explosion.

                “I am on a sidewalk in the middle of a mug—a city,” Hattie muttered, “But nobody is listening to us. I am going to walk. Professor, where have you been?”

                “Busy,” he sighed. “Hattie, you have no idea how stressful these last few months have been. For so long my sole responsibility was to ensure your safety. Once you left everything came crashing down. I’m—I apologize for leaving you in the dark.”

                “I know you are busy, but I thought you were _dead,_ ” Hattie snapped. It was a small white lie: she wondered if he could be dead, but she never truly believed it. “Even the smallest, quickest note—a message on the coin—anything. _Anything._ Professor, I got _hit by a car_ , and you didn’t even send a missive asking after my health.”

                “I’m not your keeper,” he responded, his tone dark.

                “ _Do not_ pretend you don’t care about me,” Hattie demanded, voice wobbly. She found a secluded alcove to dip away into, for a semblance of privacy. “Don’t pretend you didn’t raise me for the last eleven years.”

                “I’ve told you once—I’ll tell you again—”

                “Yeah,” Hattie laughed bitterly. “You’re not my father. I know. I’m not asking for a father. I’m asking for a little bit of compassion.”

                The other end was silent for a beat too long and she wondered if he’d hung up. Then, “I knew you were alright.”

                “You couldn’t possibly have known.”

                “You are right, of course. I only suspected,” Severus agreed. “So inform me, then.”

                Hattie didn’t even know where to start. She pinched the phone between her shoulder and her cheek, running her good hand through her hair. Severus hated that habit, for whatever reason. It made her smirk to think of his expression, had he seen her do it.

                “Well, I got hit by a car,” she stated. “I had to heal…normally. I’m still in a cast. I hit my head pretty hard, I don’t really remember much about that day.”

                “Just as I suspected,” added Severus. “You were fine.”

                “I was _lonely,_ ” Hattie whispered. “I was in pain and alone and all of my friends—all of the people I cared about—were over an entire ocean. You were my sole source of contact and you let me down.”

                “You’re a big girl. There are vastly bigger problems in our world than Hattie Potter’s _loneliness,_ ” Severus sneered.

                “You think I don’t know that?” Hattie shouted. Then, incredibly aware of her location, she lowered her voice again. “You think I don’t worry every day about you? About our friends? I don’t sleep anymore. I have nightmares every night about you, out there somewhere in the world, being kidnapped and tortured and killed. I have nightmares about the re—about _them_ finding _me._ But then I have to keep it together because, unlike you, I have _nobody to speak to_. Everyone around me is— _normal._ ”

                Severus was quiet again. In the background she could hear a woman laughing. Before she could ask about it, he started speaking again. “Hattie, I am very sorry for everything you are going through. Just know that it’s safer this way. Not forever. One day, I’m sure much sooner than either of us want, this is going to come to a head. Already the rebellions have grown—surprisingly quickly. The—the Order is doing well.”

                Hattie closed her eyes again. The Order. A truth, finally, a piece of the puzzle to fill in. “You work for the Order.”

                “I’m sorry I never told you.”

                “All these years?” Hattie asked. “The whole time?”

                “No. Not the whole time, not truly. It’s…hard to explain, especially when we are not—in full privacy. I knew of the Order a long time ago and swore loyalty to Albus Dumbledore after your mother died. He never called on me. When we started getting word of the rebellions rising up, that’s when I began searching out other members. That’s when you met Minerva, Hattie.”

                Hattie nodded, trying to fill in the timeline. “And all of our friends—?”

                “Order.” Severus confirmed. “Our entire network.”

                “Even Cedric’s family?”

                “Yes.”

                “So when we were celebrating Cecelia, and you got the message from your informant…?”

                “I’m surprised you remember that,” Severus admitted. “Yes, all Order missions. We lost many good people that night.”

                “The whole time, you were running a rebellion, and you never told me.”

                Severus sighed. “Hattie, it is so complicated. There are so many things you don’t know—things I want to tell you, but it’s too dangerous right now. I don’t have much more time to talk. We’re…there’s a large gathering currently, we’re discussing a very important mission. I just got back from France last night, and I’ll only be here through the meeting—then I will be going back to recruiting.”

                “When the mission’s over, what do you hope to have accomplished?” Hattie asked. If she had such little time with her Professor she wanted at least one answer.

                “What we always hope to accomplish, when we plan these missions,” Severus responded. Hattie felt disappointed—she thought he was going to leave it there. But he didn’t. “We hope to have eradicated another portion of the Dark Lord’s army, we hope to take back pieces of our history that he is trying to erase. Hattie, so much has happened already since you’ve been gone. We took back Diagon Alley.”

                Hattie’s breath caught in her throat. Diagon Alley was her childhood dream. Severus had shown her pictures of it in its prime and it was the epitome of everything magical—she’d always wanted to go there. She’d grown up in a world without magical cities. Any great magical area of gathering was run by the regime, either highly policed and patrolled or abandoned entirely.

                “Oh, Professor,” Hattie whispered. “Congratulations.”

                “The war isn’t won yet,” Severus reprimanded. “The coming weeks will be tough on our forces. We’re—blast it—we’re aiming for the Ministry next.”

                Hattie gasped. “Professor, if you control the Ministry—”

                “We control everything,” Severus finished. She could hear the tired smile in his voice. “Port-Keys, the Floo Network. People would be able to file their NEWTs again, order could be regained. Peoples’ lives would stop being on hold. And after the Ministry, we hope to have gained support by showing what we can do. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but next would be Hogwarts. That’s the big one.”

                “Because he guards it heavily,” Hattie remembered. “He leaves it uninhabited, but it’s his biggest power play.”

                “No,” Severus denied. “It’s not uninhabited. He uses it as his base of operations. He has students there…the unlucky ones whose parents bought into the regime, they’re all there. And prisoners of war. They’ve been there for years.”

                “You told me—”

                “I did,” Severus agreed. “I could not let an innocent child fear a school. Especially not a school which was once my safe haven—a school which was home to her parents—no. It was better to lie.”

                “Severus…”

                “I’m very sorry, Hattie, but it’s time for me to go.”

                “I don’t want you to go,” Hattie said, suddenly surprising herself by crying. It hurt to hear his voice and know she would have to say goodbye. “Professor—please, please don’t go.”

                “I have to.”

                “I miss you,” she whispered. She sounded like a small child even to her own ears.

                “Oh, Hattie,” he murmured. “You idiotic child. I miss you too.”

                “You’ll call me again?”

                “I will try.”

                It wasn’t good enough, but it had to be good enough for now. Hattie’s body wracked with suppressed sobs. “Professor—come back alive. You are not allowed to die.”

                “I can’t make that promise, Hattie.”

                “Promise me.”

                “ _Hattie._ ”

                Someone in the background was calling for him now—it was a sharp, angry voice. The man used Professor’s surname and somehow it sounded derisive. Professor sighed in frustration.

                “Promise me, and then go,” Hattie told him, trying to be brave.

                “I promise that I will attempt to make it back,” Severus said. “You are strong, Hattie. Remember that.”

                “Goodbye, Professor.”

                Hattie stared at her phone’s screen for a very long time afterward. She added the phone number to her contacts as _Professor Severus_ and stared at the number until it was ingrained within her mind. It was only the call history log that convinced her the phone call had even happened—that and the sheer amount of emotion flowing through her body.

                She sunk down on the floor and sobbed, not even trying to control herself. She was so relieved—she was so angry—she was so worried. The emotions cycled around in her brain, each battling for dominance. Her chest ached. Until she had heard his voice she didn’t realize how homesick she was for the people she cared about.

                It was only when she was composing herself, dragging herself out of the dirt, that she realized she hadn’t asked any questions about her friends. And he, of course, hadn’t thought to give her any answers. But she told herself that if anything bad had happened to one of their acquaintances, he would’ve mentioned it to her.

                Hattie wiped her eyes one last time. She was strong. She straightened her back, set her shoulders, and found her magical core deep within her. She was strong. If there was anything Professor had ever taught her to be, it was that.

                Strong, and brave, and resilient.

                She set off, toward the bookstore, to find Bella.

—x—

                Bella’s mind was racing a million miles a minute. She had been herded into an alley by a group of four drunk men.

                People were always quick to tell you what you should do in scary situations. How you should react. If your wrists were zip-tied together you could break the zip-tie with enough momentum. If you slammed the palm of your hand into someone’s nose you could break it. Take your purse off—use it as a weapon, or just give it to them if that’s what they want.

                Obviously, most of those people had never been in a situation like this.

                A pessimistic voice in her head reminded her that she wouldn’t have a chance against one of them, let alone four. But she refused to go out without taking at least one with her.

                She had a good, loud scream—but in her worried state she wasn’t sure how much volume she could manage. It was like that nightmare of being chased, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t run any faster or make any noise.

                The fear was paralyzing.

                _At least Hattie won’t be involved,_ Bella thought, with some sense of relief. She felt relieved and guilty at the same time.

                Relief because Hattie would not have to be involved in whatever was about to go down.

                Guilt because Bella desperately wished she was not alone.

                “Stay away from me,” Bella warned, in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. Instead it wavered unsurely—she was like a frightened rabbit.

                “Don’t be like that, sugar,” the thickset man called, and the others began laughing raucously behind her.

                Bella tried not to think about what was going to happen. She didn’t want the anticipation to scare her further. How long would it be before Hattie came looking? Would she find Bella? Would Charlie get involved?

                With dread, Bella began to draw in breath for a scream. She thought to herself, _anything but death._

                And then headlights suddenly flew around the corner.

                The car almost hit one of the men, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. Bella’s heart leapt in her chest: this was her chance. She dove into the road—the car was going to stop, or have to hit her. But the silver car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from her.

                “Get in,” a furious voice commanded.

                It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over her—even before she left the street—as soon as she heard his voice. She melted. The tense set of her shoulders relaxed, and she could have cried.

                Instead, she jumped into the seat, slamming the door behind herself.

                The tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving around the stunned men on the street. Bella caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as Edward straightened the car out, speeding toward the harbor.

                “Put your seatbelt on,” he commanded. Bella realized she was clutching the seat with both hands. She quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness. “Where’s Hattie?” he demanded as he blew through several stop signs without a pause.

                It took Bella a moment to answer, still riding the wave of utter relief she felt. She was completely unconcerned with where he was taking her. “She’s at the bookstore,” Bella said slowly.

                She stared at his face, studying his features in the limited light of the dashboard, waiting for her breath to return to normal. It occurred to her after a moment that his expression was murderously angry.

                “Are you okay?” she asked, surprised at the hoarseness of her voice.

                “No,” he said, curtly. His tone was livid.

                She sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyes stared straight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. She glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything besides the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. They weren’t in town anymore.

                “Bella?” he asked, his voice tight, controlled.

                “Yes?” her voice was still rough. She cleared her throat quietly.

                “Are you alright?” He still didn’t look at her, but the fury was plain on his face.

                “Yes,” she croaked softly.

                “Distract me, please,” he ordered.

                “I’m sorry, what?”

                He exhaled sharply.

                “Just prattle on about something unimportant until I calm down,” he clarified, closing his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

                “Um.” She wracked her brain for something trivial. “I’m going to run over Tyler Crowley before school tomorrow?”

                He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

                “Why?”

                “He’s telling everyone he’s taking me to prom—either he’s insane or he’s still trying to make up for nearly killing Hattie and I last… well, you remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, we’ll be even, and he can’t keep trying to make amends. Hattie thinks I should just talk to him, but I don’t need enemies and maybe Lauren would back off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he doesn’t have a ride he can’t take anyone to prom…” Bella babbled.

                “I heard about that.” Edward sounded a bit more composed.

                “You did?” Bella asked in disbelief, her previous irritation flaring up. “If he’s paralyzed from the neck down, he can’t take anyone to prom, either,” she muttered, refining her plan.

                The sudden sound of Bella’s phone going off was loud in the dark car, startling them both—though Edward’s eyes barely flickered, Bella had jolted visibly.

                It was Hattie.

**Hattie Potter: bella where are you?**

**i went to the bookstore and you werent there**

**so i met the girls at dinner**

**Bella Swan: long story**

**EC picked me up**

**Hattie Potter: ??????**

**what? why? when?**

**Bella Swan: like i said, long story**

**ill tell you later**

**how was your professor?**

**Hattie Potter: long story**

**i guess we both have stories to tell.**

                Edward sighed. When Bella glanced up, his eyes were finally opened, scrutinizing her.

                “Sorry,” Bella said. “Are you better now?”

                “Not really.”

                She waited, but he didn’t speak again. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid.

                “What’s wrong?” she was surprised when her voice came out as a whisper.

                “Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella.” He was whispering, too, and as he stared out the window his eyes narrowed into slits. “But it wouldn’t be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…” he didn’t finish his sentence, looking away. Bella thought he was struggling to control his anger again. “At least,” he continued, “that’s what I’m trying to convince myself.”

                “Oh.” The word was inadequate, but Bella couldn’t think of a better response.

                They sat in silence again. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard: it was past six-thirty. Simultaneously it seemed like so much more time had passed, and as if not nearly enough had.

                Still, with regret, she told him, “The girls will be worried…I was supposed to meet them.”

                “You just told Hattie you were with me,” Edward said, but started the engine anyways.

                Soon enough, they were parallel-parked in a spot by the curb that Bella would’ve thought was way too small for the Volvo. Outside the window Bella spotted the lights for La Bella Italia, and the girls were just leaving.

                “How did you know where…?” Bella began, but stopped herself, shaking her head. She heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.

                “What are you doing?” she asked.

                “I’m taking you to dinner.” He smiled lightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. She fumbled with her seatbelt, then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for her on the sidewalk.

                Edward spoke before she could. “Go stop them before I have to track them down, too. I don’t think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again.”

                Bella shivered at the threat in his voice.

                “Hattie, Jessica!” Bella yelled after them, waving when they turned. The quartet hurried back to her.

                Bella was surprised to see that Hattie’s eyes were puffy. The girl was quiet, not really looking at anyone—she’d very obviously been crying.

                “Hattie told us that Edward picked you up,” Jessica explained lightly, but it didn’t stop them from hesitating a few feet from the duo. Hattie was the exception, encroaching on Bella’s space. For some reason, Bella got the feeling the younger girl needed a hug.

                “Yeah, I, uh, got lost. Edward found me,” Bella admitted, glossing over the truth. She gestured toward Edward a little self-consciously, careful not to bump Hattie.

                “Would it be alright if I joined you?” he asked, in his silken, irresistible voice. Bella could tell from Jessica, Angela, and McKayla’s staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his talents upon them before.

                “Er…sure,” Jessica breathed.

                “We already ate,” Hattie said. Bella could hear the eyeroll in her voice and suppressed a grin. At least her sister wasn’t rendered completely helpless by Edward’s voice.

                “Oh…yeah…sorry,” Angela murmured, shamefaced.

                “That’s fine—I’m not hungry.” Bella shrugged. It was the truth, she was still pretty shaken from her encounter.

                “I think you should eat something.” Edward’s voice was low and full of authority. He looked down at Hattie and spoke slightly louder. “Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won’t have to wait while she eats.”

                Hattie nodded shortly, looking at Bella as if to try and read her expression. Bella winked. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with her perpetual savior. There were so many questions that Bella couldn’t bombard him with until they were alone.

                “Alright—that sounds good. Bella, I’ll see you when you get in.” The more Hattie talked, the more Bella could hear the rough, tired quality in her voice. Whatever had happened with her professor had taken a toll on her.

                “Won’t your dad ask questions?” McKayla protested. “Mine would…”

                “We stay in the loft—there’s no reason for him to come looking for us,” Hattie explained. “He never has before.”

                “I’ll make excuses to him when I get home,” Bella assured. Angela was rounding up the girls and hurrying them off, but Hattie hung back. Bella again got the feeling that she needed a hug. “Are you okay, Hattie?”

                “Long night,” Hattie murmured. The girl was obviously trying to keep her voice down, and Bella noticed Edward moved a few steps away respectfully.

                “You and me both,” Bella agreed. “Will you be alright? I shouldn’t be too late, but Beau can help you with your clothes if you need.”

                “I’ll be fine.” Hattie was looking at the ground. Her shoulders quivered a little. “Bella…”

                But Bella was already hugging her. Hattie clutched Bella with her good arm, the tightest hug Bella could remember getting in recent times. A few tears fell onto Bella’s shoulder and she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the phone call was about.

                “You’re going to tell me everything,” Bella demanded. “Right?”

                “Right,” Hattie muttered, pulling away. She scrubbed her face silently for a moment. “You, too?”

                “Right,” Bella agreed sourly.

                When Hattie moved to join the other girls, glancing back over her shoulder for a second, Bella swallowed thickly.

                She got the feeling they were both lying to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the introduction of Severus and the beginning of some of our deeper plots! (This story is, first and foremost, about the relationships we build with the people we love and lie to, but there are obviously some conflicts that will be introduced and resolved.) 
> 
> I almost forgot to post this weekend because it was such a busy week for me! I got almost no writing done, and I'm stuck on chapter 41 trying to figure out how to get things moving again. If anyone has any ideas that they'd like to see incorporated, let me know! :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * follows the end of Twilight: 8 through the beginning of Twilight: 9  
> * Very by the book, though I cut out some unnecessary stuff, changed just a couple of things, and added a teensy bit.  
> * Purposely changed "Shall we call you 'Jane'?" into "Shall we call you 'Sarah'?"

**17.**

_“I ask for trust. It is a lot, I know; it isn't easy to give. But it is all I ask.” ―[Amelia Atwater-Rhodes](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17082.Amelia_Atwater_Rhodes)_

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                Bella and Edward were seated in _La Bella Italia._ Edward had tipped the hostess so she’d give him a more private table—when the server came to take their drink orders, she seemed to look expectant. Clearly the hostess was gossiping behind the scenes.

                “How are you feeling?” Edward asked. His eyes were fixed to her face, scrutinizing her reactions.

                “I’m fine,” Bella replied, surprised by his intensity. Her mind was reeling over everything that had happened. Her encounter—Edward saving her—Hattie’s tears. She was also trying to add her theories on the Cullens into the mix. It was mind-boggling.

                “You don’t feel dizzy, sick, cold…?”

                “Should I?”

                Edward chuckled at her puzzled tone. “Well, I’m actually waiting for you to go into shock.” His face was twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.

                “I don’t think that will happen,” Bella said, after she could breathe again. “I’ve always been good at repressing unpleasant things.”

                “Just the same, I’ll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you.”

                Just on cue, the waitress appeared with their drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She stood with her back to Bella while she placed them on the table. The waitress seemed entirely unwilling to look at Bella, even when they were ordering.

                Once they’d ordered (curiously, Edward hadn’t gotten anything), the waitress left.

                “Drink,” Edward commanded.

                So she sipped at her drink obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by how thirsty she was. She only realized she’d finished the whole thing when he pushed his glass toward her.

                “Thanks,” she murmured, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was radiating through her chest, and she shivered.

                “Are you cold?”

                “It’s just the Coke,” Bella explained, shivering again.

                “Don’t you have a jacket?” Edward asked disapprovingly.

                “Yes.” She looked at the empty bench next to her. “Oh—I left it in Jessica’s car,” Bella realized.

                Edward was shrugging off his jacket. Bella suddenly realized she had never once noticed what he was wearing—not just tonight, but ever. She just couldn’t seem to look away from his face.

                She forced herself to look now, focusing. He was removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath he wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how muscular his chest was.

                He handed her his jacket, interrupting her ogling.

                “Thanks,” Bella repeated, sliding her arms into the jacket. It was cold—the way hers felt when she first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty hallway. She shivered again. It smelled amazing. She inhaled, trying to identify the delicious scent—it didn’t smell like cologne.

                The sleeves were much too long; she shoved them back so she could free her hands.

                “That color blue looks lovely with your skin,” Edward said, watching her. Bella was surprised; she looked down, flushing. Hattie had said much the same thing, but it was different now.

                “Thank you…Hattie gave it to me.”

                “Your cousin has beautiful taste,” Edward complimented, shoving the bread basket toward her.

                “Really, I’m not going into shock,” Bella protested.

                “You should be—a normal person would be. You don’t even look shaken.” He seemed unsettled. He stared into her eyes, and Bella saw how light his were: lighter than she’d ever seen them, golden butterscotch.

                “I feel very safe with you,” Bella confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again. She omitted that she’d made her peace with it, thankful that Hattie hadn’t been involved.

                However, this displeased Edward; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head, frowning.

                “This is more complicated than I’d planned,” he murmured to himself.

                Bella picked up a breadstick, nibbling the end. She measured his expression, wondering—when would it be okay to start questioning him?

                “Usually you’re in a better mood when your eyes are so light,” she commented, trying to distract him from whatever thought had left him frowning and somber.

                He stared at her, stunned. “What?”

                “You’re always crabbier when your eyes are black—I expect it then,” Bella went on. “I have a theory about that.”

                He narrowed his eyes. “More theories?”

                “Mm-hmm.” Bella chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look indifferent.

                “I hope you were more creative this time…or are you still stealing from comic books?” his faint smile was mocking; his eyes were still light.

                “Well, no, I didn’t get it from a comic book, but I didn’t come up with it on my own, either.”

                “And?” Edward prompted.

                But then the waitress strode around the partition with Bella’s food. She realized they’d been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because they both straightened as the waitress approached. She set the dish down and tried to chat Edward up again, but he only had her refill the sodas before waving her away politely.

                “You were saying?” he asked Bella, once the waitress was gone.

                “I’ll tell you about it in the car. If…” Bella paused.

                “There are conditions?” he raised one eyebrow, ominous.

                “I do have a few questions, of course.”

                “Of course.”

                The waitress brought out two more Cokes, and sat them down without a word this time, leaving quickly. Bella sipped hers quietly.

                “Well, go ahead,” Edward pushed, his voice still hard.

                Bella started with the most undemanding, or so she thought. “Why are you in Port Angeles?”

                Edward looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at Bella from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face. “Next.”

                “But that’s the easiest one!” Bella objected.

                “Next,” he repeated.

                Bella looked down, frustrated. She unrolled her silverware, picked up the fork, and speared a ravioli carefully. It _was_ good, but she was using it more as a distraction than anything.

                “Okay, then.” Bella glared at him, and continued slowly. “Let’s say, hypothetically of course, that…someone…could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know—with some exceptions.”

                “Just three exceptions,” Edward corrected, “hypothetically.”

                “Alright, with three exceptions, then.” Bella was thrilled he was playing along, but she tried to seem casual. “How does that work? What are the limitations? How could…that someone…find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know she was in trouble?” She wondered if her convoluted questions even made sense.

                “Hypothetically?” Edward asked.

                “Sure.”

                “Well…if that someone…”

                “Let’s call him ‘Joe’,” Bella suggested.

                Edward smiled wryly. “Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, the timing wouldn’t have needed to be quite so exact.” He shook his head,  rolling his eyes. “Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know.”

                “We were speaking of a hypothetical case,” Bella reminded him frostily.

                He laughed at her, eyes warm. “Yes, we were,” he agreed. “Shall we call you ‘Sarah’?”

                “How did you know?” Bella asked, unable to curb her curiosity. She realized she was leaning toward him again.

                Edward seemed torn, then—wavering. His eyes locked with hers and she guessed he was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell her the truth.

                “You can trust me, you know,” she murmured. She reached forward, without thinking, to touch his folded hands, but he slid them away minutely and she pulled her hand back.

                “I don’t know if I have a choice anymore.” Edward’s voice was almost a whisper. “I was wrong—you’re much more observant than I gave you credit for.”

                “I thought you were always right.”

                “I used to be.” He shook his head again. “I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You’re not a magnet for accidents—that’s not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you.”

                “And you put yourself into that category?” Bella guessed.

                His face turned cold, expressionless. “Unequivocally.”

                Bella stretched her hand across the table again—ignoring him when he pulled back slightly once more—to touch the back of his hand shyly with her fingertips. His skin was cold and hard, like a stone.

                “Thank you.” Her voice was fervent with gratitude. “That’s twice now.”

                His face softened. “Let’s not try for three, agreed?”

                She scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand out from under hers, placing both of his beneath the table. But he leaned toward her.

                “I followed you to Port Angeles,” he admitted, speaking in a rush. “I’ve never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it’s much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that’s probably just because it’s you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes.” He paused. Bella wondered if it should bother her that he was following her; instead, she felt a strange surge of pleasure. He stared, maybe wondering why her lips were curving into an involuntary smile.

                “Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you’ve been interfering with fate?” Bella speculated, distracting herself.

                “That wasn’t the first time,” he said, and his voice was hard to hear. Bella stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. “Your number was up the first time I met you.”

                She felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent glare that first day…but the overwhelming sense of safety she felt in his presence stifled it. By the time he looked up to read her eyes, there was no trace of fear in them.

                “You remember?” he asked, his angel’s face grave.

                “Yes.” Bella was calm.

                “And yet, here you sit.” There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; he raised one eyebrow.

                “Yes, here I sit…because of you.” She paused. “Because, somehow, you knew how to find me today…?”

                He pressed his lips together, staring at her through narrowed eyes, deciding once again. His eyes flashed down to her full plate, then back to her.

                “You eat, I’ll talk,” he bargained.

                She popped a ravioli in her mouth obediently, trying not to smile cheekily at him.

                “It’s harder than it should be—keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I’ve read their mind before.” He looked at her anxiously, and she realized that she’d frozen. She made herself swallow, and then took another bite.

                “I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully—like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles—and at first I didn’t notice when you and Hattie took off. Then, when I realized you weren’t with her anymore, I went searching for Hattie. Hattie is…difficult. I _can_ hear her, but it…gives me a headache. There’s a lot of— _effort_ involved, and very little information gained. So instead I went looking for you in the bookstore I saw in Jessica’s head.

                “I could tell you hadn’t gone in, and that you’d gone south…and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street—to see if anyone had noticed you so I could know where you were. I had no reason to be worried…but I was strangely anxious…” he was lost in thought, staring past Bella, seeing things she couldn’t imagine.

                “I started to drive in circles, still…listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then—” he stopped, clenching his teeth together in sudden fury. He made an effort to calm himself.

                “Then what?” she whispered. He continued to stare over her head.

                “I heard what they were thinking,” he growled, his upper lip curling back slightly over his teeth. “I saw your face in his mind.” He suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement was so swift it startled her.

                “It was very…hard—you can’t imagine how hard—for me to simply take you away, and leave them…alive.” His voice was muffled by his arm. “I could have let you go with Hattie, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them,” he admitted in a whisper.

                Bella sat quietly, dazed, her thoughts incoherent. She was leaning back against the booth, hands in her lap. He still had his face in his hands, and he was as still as if he’d been carved from the stone his skin resembled.

                After that, they decided to leave. Bella was glad for the hour-long drive home: she wasn’t ready to leave him yet.

                He was very polite to the waitress, even if he never looked away from Bella whilst talking to her. He followed Bella closely to the door, very careful not to touch her.

                She remembered what Jessica had said earlier, about her relationship with Mike—how they were almost to the first-kiss stage. Bella sighed. Edward seemed to hear her, looking down curiously, and she was grateful he seemed to not be able to hear her thoughts.

                He opened the passenger door for her, holding it as she got in and closing it behind her. Bella watched as he walked around the front of the car, amazed still by how graceful he was. She probably should’ve been used to it by now, but she wasn’t—she had a feeling Edward wasn’t the kind of person you got used to.

                Once inside the car, Edward started the engine and turned the heat on high. It had gotten very cold, and Bella guessed the good weather was coming to an end. She was warm in his jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it when she thought he wasn’t looking.

                Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

                “Now,” he said significantly. “It’s your turn.”

                “Can I ask just one more?” Bella pleaded as Edward accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the road.

                He sighed. “One,” he agreed. His lips pressed together in a cautious line.

                “Well…you said you knew I hadn’t gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that.”

                He looked away, deliberating.

                “I thought we were past all the evasiveness,” Bella grumbled.

                “Fine, then. I followed your scent.” He looked at the road, giving her time to compose her face. She couldn’t think of one acceptable response to that, but filed it carefully away for future study. She tried to refocus. She wasn’t ready to let him be finished, now that he was finally explaining things.

                “And then you didn’t answer one of my first questions…” she stalled.

                He looked at her with disapproval. “Which one?”

                “How does it work—the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody’s mind,  anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family…?” she felt silly, asking for clarification on make-believe.

                “That’s more than one,” he pointed out. She simply intertwined her fingers and gazed at him, waiting. He sighed.

                “Not all of my family—just Edythe and I,” he said finally. “And we can’t hear anyone, anywhere. We have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone’s…‘voice’ is, the further away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles.” He paused thoughtfully. “It’s a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It’s just a hum—a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they’re thinking is clear.

                “Most of the time I tune it all out—it can be very distracting. And then it’s easier to seem normal”—he frowned as he said the word—“when I’m not accidentally answering someone’s thoughts rather than their words. Edythe likes to think of it as a game, though. How far she can go before people get suspicious.”

                “Why do you think my siblings and I are different?” Bella asked curiously.

                He looked at her, his eyes enigmatic. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “Hattie, it’s like I can’t…focus on her. It hurts my head, trying to make out her thoughts. I don’t do it often. Edythe thinks it’s fun though. The only guess I have for you and Beau is that maybe your mind doesn’t work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I’m only getting the PM.” He grinned at her, suddenly amused.

                “My mind doesn’t work right? I’m a freak?” The words bothered her more than they should—probably because his speculation hit home. She’d always suspected as much, and it embarrassed her to have it confirmed.

                “I hear voices in my mind and you’re worried that _you’re_ the freak,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s just a theory…” his face tightened. “Which brings us back to you.”

                Bella sighed, unsure how to begin.

                “Aren’t we past all the evasions now?” Edward reminded her softly.

                Bella looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. She happened to notice the speedometer and her heart lurched.

                “Holy crow!” she shouted. “Slow down!”

                “What’s wrong?” he was startled, but the car didn’t decelerate.

                “You’re going a hundred miles an hour!” She was still shouting. She shot a panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall—as hard as a wall of steel if they veered off the road at this speed.

                “Relax, Bella,” he rolled his eyes, still not slowing.

                “Are you trying to kill us?” Bella demanded.

                “We’re not going to crash.”

                She try to modulate her voice. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

                “I always drive like this.” He turned to smile crookedly at her.

                “Keep your eyes on the road!”

                “I’ve never been in an accident, Bella—I’ve never even gotten a ticket.” He grinned and tapped his forehead. “Built-in radar detector.”

                “Very funny,” Bella fumed. “Charlie’s a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away.”

                “Probably,” he agreed, with a short, hard laugh. “But you can’t.” He sighed, and Bella watched in relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. “Happy?”

                “Almost.”

                “I hate driving slow,” he muttered.

                “This is slow?”

                “Enough commentary on my driving,” he snapped. “I’m still waiting on your latest theory.”

                Bella bit her lip. He looked down at her, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle. “I won’t laugh,” he promised.

                “I’m more afraid that you’ll be angry with me.”

                “Is it that bad?”

                “Pretty much, yeah.”

                He waited. She was looking down at her hands now, so she couldn’t see his expression.

                “Go ahead.” His voice was calm.

                “I don’t know how to start,” Bella admitted.

                “How about you start at the beginning…you said you didn’t come up with this on your own.”

                “No.”

                “What got you started—a book? A movie?” he probed.

                “No—it was Saturday, at the beach.” She risked a glance up at his face. He looked puzzled. “I ran into Hattie’s…friend—Jacob Black.” Bella continued. “His dad and Charlie have been friends since we were babies.”

                He still looked confused, so Bella continued idly.

                “His dad is one of the Quileute elders.” She watched him carefully. His confused expression froze in place. “We had a bonfire and he was telling me some old legends—trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…” Bella hesitated.

                “Go on,” Edward said.

                “About vampires.” She realized she was whispering. She couldn’t look at his face now, but she saw his knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

                “And you immediately thought of me?” His voice was still calm.

                “No. He…mentioned your family.”

                He was staring at the road, silent. Bella was worried suddenly about protecting Jacob—and Hattie’s feelings, as well.

                “He just thought it was a silly superstition,” she said quickly. “He didn’t expect me to think anything of it. It was my fault—I forced him to tell me.”

                “Why?”

                “Lauren said something about you—she was trying to provoke me. And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn’t come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So when Jacob and I were alone, I tried to trick it out of him,” Bella admitted, hanging her head.

                Edward startled her by laughing. She glared up at him. He was laughing, but his eyes were fierce, staring ahead. “Tricked him how?” he asked.

                “I tried to flirt—it didn’t really go how I expected.” Shame colored her voice as she remembered his amusement, and the thought of trying to flirt with Hattie’s boyfriend at all.

                “I’d like to have seen that,” Edward chuckled darkly. “And you accused me of dazzling people—poor Jacob Black.”

                “I didn’t dazzle him,” Bella protested. “He saw right through my flirting. He’s not…interested in me.”

                “You don’t know that,” Edward rolled his eyes.

                “I do,” Bella’s voice was self-assured. “Jacob Black is in love with my sister.”

                He stared at her with his deep eyes, looking torn again, but nodded. “What did you do then?” he asked, after a minute.

                “I did some research on the internet.”

                “And did that convince you?” his voice sounded barely interested, but his hands were clamped hard onto the steering wheel.

                “No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…” she stopped.

                “What?”

                “I decided it didn’t matter,” she whispered.

                “It didn’t matter?” His tone made her look up—she had finally broken through his carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger she’d feared.

                “No,” she said softly. “It doesn’t matter to me what you are.”

                A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. “You don’t care if I’m a monster? If I’m not human?!”

                “No.”

                He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.

                “You’re angry,” Bella sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

                “No,” he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. “I’d rather know what you’re thinking—even if what you’re thinking is insane.”

                “So I’m wrong again?” Bella challenged.

                “That’s not what I was referring to. ‘It doesn’t matter!’” he quoted, gritting his teeth together.

                “I’m right?” Bella gaped. It had never struck her that her theories might be correct.

                “Does it matter?”

                “Not really,” Bella said, after taking a deep breath. “But I _am_ curious.” Her voice, at least, was composed.

                He was suddenly resigned. “What are you curious about?”

                “How old are you?”

                “Seventeen,” he answered promptly.

                “And how long have you been seventeen?”

                His lips twitched as he stared at the road. “A while,” he admitted at last.

                “Okay.” She smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with her. He stared down at her watchfully—much as he had when he’d worried she’d go into shock. Bella smiled wider in encouragement, and he frowned.

                “Don’t laugh—but how can you come out during the daytime?”

                He laughed anyway. “Myth.”

                “Burned by the sun?”

                “Myth.”

                “Sleeping in coffins?”

                “Myth.” He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. “I can’t sleep.”

                It took her a minute to absorb that. “At all?”

                “Never,” he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to her with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held hers, making her lose her train of thought. She stared at him until he looked away. “You haven’t asked me the most important question yet.”

                His voice was hard—when he looked at her again, his eyes were cold.

                Bella blinked, still dazed. “Which one is that?”

                “You aren’t concerned about my diet?” he asked sarcastically.

                “Oh,” she murmured. “That.”

                “Yes, that.” His voice was bleak. “Don’t you want to know if I drink blood?”

                Bella flinched. “Well, Jacob said something about that.”

                “What did Jacob say?”

                “He said you didn’t…hunt people. He said your family wasn’t supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals.”

                “He said we weren’t dangerous?” His voice was deeply skeptical.

                “Not exactly. He said you weren’t _supposed_ to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn’t want you on their land, just in case.”

                He looked forward, but Bella couldn’t tell if he was watching the road or not.

                “So was he right? About not hunting people?” she tried to keep her voice as even as possible.

                “The Quileutes have a long memory,” he whispered. She took it as confirmation. “Don’t let that make you complacent, though. They’re right to keep their distance. We _are_ still dangerous.”

                “I don’t understand.”

                “We try,” he explained slowly. “We’re usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you.”

                “This is a mistake?” Bella asked. She could hear the sadness in her own voice, but didn’t know if he could as well.

                “A very dangerous one,” he murmured.

                They were both silent then, watching the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too fast; they didn’t look real, it looked like a video game. She was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the black road beneath them, and she was hideously afraid she’d never be alone with him like this again—openly, the walls between them gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and she recoiled from that idea. She couldn’t waste one minute she had with him.

                “Tell me more,” she asked, desperately, not caring what he said. She just wanted to hear his voice again.

                He looked at her quickly, startled by the change in her tone. “What more do you want to know?”

                “Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people,” she suggested, her voice still tinged with desperation. She realized her eyes were wet, and fought against the grief that was trying to overpower her.

                “I don’t want to be a monster.” His voice was very low.

                “But animals aren’t enough?”

                He paused. “I can’t be sure, of course, but I’d compare it to living on Soylent or protein shakes—we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn’t completely satiate the hunger—or rather the thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time.” His voice turned ominous. “Sometimes it’s more difficult than others.”

                “Is it very difficult for you now?” Bella asked.

                Edward sighed. “Yes.”

                “But you’re not hungry now,” she said, confidently—stating, not asking.

                “Why do you think that?”

                “Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I’ve noticed people—men in particular—are crabbier when they’re hungry.”

                He chuckled. “You _are_ observant, aren’t you?”  

                Bella didn’t answer; she just listened to the sound of his laugh, committing it to memory.

                “Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett and Edythe?” she asked when it was quiet again.

                “Yes.” He paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to say something. “I didn’t want to leave, but it was necessary. It’s a bit easier to be around you when I’m not thirsty.”

                “Why didn’t you want to leave?”

                “It makes me…anxious…to be away from you.” His eyes were gentle, but intense, and they seemed to be making her bones turn soft. “I wasn’t joking when I asked you to try not to fall into the ocean or get run over on Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett and Edythe’s nerves.” He smiled ruefully at her.

                “Three days? Didn’t you just get back today?”

                “No, we got back Sunday.”

                “Then why weren’t any of you in school?” Bella was frustrated, almost angry as she thought of how much disappointment she had suffered because of his absence.

                “Well, you asked me if the sun hurt me, and it doesn’t. But I can’t go out in the sunlight—at least, not where anyone can see.”

                “Why?”

                “I’ll show you sometime,” he promised. Her heart soared at the promise of more time with him.

                She thought for a second, and then told him, disgruntled, “You might have called me. Or texted.”

                He seemed puzzled. “But I knew you were safe.”

                “But I didn’t know you were. I—” she hesitated, dropping her eyes.

                “What?” His velvety voice was compelling.

                “I didn’t like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too.” She blushed a little bit at saying it out loud.

                He was quiet. Bella glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression was pained.

                “Ah,” he groaned quietly. “This is wrong.”

                She couldn’t understand his response. “What did I say?”

                “Don’t you see, Bella? It’s one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved.” He turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for her to understand. “I don’t want to hear you feel that way.” His voice was low, but urgent. His words cut Bella. “It’s wrong. It’s not safe. I’m dangerous, Bella—I could hurt you, I could hurt your family. Please grasp that.”

                “No.” She tried very hard not to sound like a sulky child.

                “I’m serious,” he growled.

                “So am I. I told you, it doesn’t matter what you are. It’s too late.”

                His voice whipped out, low and harsh. “Never say that.”

                Bella bit her lip and was glad he couldn’t see how much that hurt. She stared out at the road. They must be close now—he was driving much too fast.

                “What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice still raw. Bella just shook her head. There was no way to explain the swirl of emotions and thoughts inside her brain—thoughts of Beau’s laughing face as he chased Bella and Hattie on the beach, or Hattie with her cast sulking quietly as she let her siblings sign it. Thoughts of Charlie, ruffling Bella’s hair. None of it mattered anymore.

                “Are you crying?” Edward asked, appalled. Bella hadn’t noticed the moisture in her eyes had brimmed over. She quickly rubbed her hand across her cheeks—her thoughts had betrayed her.

                “No,” she said, her voice cracking. He reached for her hesitantly with his right hand, but then he stopped, placing it slowly back on the wheel.

                “I’m sorry.” His voice burned with regret. Bella knew he wasn’t apologizing just for the words that had upset her. “Tell me something,” he said, after another minute. He was struggling to use a lighter tone and Bella could tell.

                “Yes?” she responded absently.

                “What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn’t understand your expression. You looked—resigned, somehow, but grateful.”

                “I was happy that Hattie had gotten that phone call,” Bella recalled. “Grateful she wouldn’t be a part of it, but also…I desperately wished I didn’t have to face it alone. I had tried to think of self-defense earlier, but I knew I couldn’t fight them all, so I was going to scream.”

                “You didn’t think of running?” Edward seemed upset.

                “I fall down a lot when I run,” Bella admitted. “I wouldn’t have gotten far.”

                He shook his head. “You were right—I’m definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive.”

                They were passing into Forks now. Bella could see the boundaries of the town. It had taken less than twenty minutes.

                “Will I see you tomorrow?” Bella demanded.

                “Yes—I have a paper due, too.” He smiled sadly at her. “I’ll save you a seat at lunch.”

                It was silly, after everything they’d been through that night, how that little promise sent hot butterflies through Bella’s stomach. It made her unable to speak.

                They were in front of Charlie’s house. The lights were still on, the cruiser and her truck in the driveway where they should be. Above the garage, one window was lit, the curtains blocking most of the light—the other window was darkened. Everything felt utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream.

                He stopped the car, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. “Do you promise to be there tomorrow?” she asked in a tiny voice. She reminded herself of Hattie for a moment—trying so hard to be strong and not let any signs of weakness through. And then, in one moment, there the façade goes—right down the drain.

                “I promise,” Edward murmured.

                She nodded, heaving a sigh. With one last whiff of the jacket, she pulled it off, handing it over to him.

                “You can keep it—you don’t have a jacket for tomorrow,” he reminded her.

                “Hattie will have fetched mine from Jessica’s car. And if not, I’ll borrow one of hers…besides, I don’t want to explain it to Charlie.”

                “Oh…right,” Edward grinned.

                She hesitated as she stepped out of the car, door on the handle.

                “Bella?” he asked, his tone different—serious, but hesitant.

                “Yes?” she asked, turning back too eagerly to him.

                “Will you promise me something? Don’t go into the woods alone.”

                “Why?” Bella responded, confused.

                He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past her out the window. “I’m not always the most dangerous thing out there—let’s leave it at that. And…keep Hattie out of the woods too, okay?”

                Bella shuddered slightly at the bleakness in his voice, but nodded. This was a promise she could keep. It would be harder keeping Hattie out of the woods—especially when she got her cast off next week—but she would try. “Whatever you say,” she told him.

                “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he sighed. It was obvious that it was time to leave, but it was still difficult.

                “Tomorrow, then.” She opened the door unwillingly.

                “Bella? Sleep well,” he said. His face was just inches from hers, his breath blowing toward her face, stunning her. It was the same scent from the jacket, only concentrated—it fogged her brain a little, dazing her.

                It took her another long moment to get a hold of herself, stumbling out of the car and up to the door. She thought she heard him chuckle, but she wasn’t sure; the sound was too quiet for her to be certain.

                He waited until she had stumbled to the front door, unlocking it. Then she heard his engine rev quietly. Bella turned to watch the silver car back out of the driveway, disappearing around the corner.

                She sighed. Time to make excuses to Charlie—and then on to talk to Hattie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go~ I'll probably post Chapter 18 not long from now (either tonight or tomorrow) since this followed the book so closely. :) Things speed up a hair now, Bella has her own secrets to keep from Hattie, etc. 
> 
> **QUESTION:** I'm struggling with transitioning into New Moon and the next chapter in Hattie's story (Chapter 41 is giving me hell). How would you guys feel about seeing parts of New Moon from Jacob's point of view? I'll be focusing a lot on Hattie in New Moon and I'm going to try and do something with Beau's character finally, and we all already know Bella's story. Would that be interesting to you guys?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Follows the first half of Twilight: 10

_Against slavery, against tyranny, I would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom I was defending. ―[Sarah J. Maas](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3433047.Sarah_J_Maas)_

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                For Hattie, the ride home with Jessica and her crew had been spent in silence on her part. The other girls chattered and giggled, and even gossiped a little about Bella and Edward, but Hattie couldn’t bring herself to join in. It had been too long of a night. First the phone call with Severus, then finding the bookstore…sans Bella.

                She couldn’t quit thinking about the panic she felt when Bella wasn’t there, and the blasé way her cousin had addressed it. Edward had “picked her up”…she hadn’t even thought to text Hattie. Hattie could only tell herself that it must’ve been extenuating circumstances—after all, she hadn’t been the only one clinging onto their parting hug.

                So yes, Hattie spent the ride in silence, her face pressed against the glass of the window. She felt exhausted in the way that only comes from crying long and hard. She knew her eyes were puffy, she was never one of those girls who could cry without anyone knowing it. Jessica and the others had been pretty tactful about ignoring it, but it was obvious even they noticed—Angela had even texted her, but the conversation was a brief one.

                Hattie had had Jessica drop her off at the corner and she’d walked the rest of the way, her dress and Bella’s jacket folded over her arms. The brisk air caused goosebumps to form on her skin, but also helped clear her brain. She’d taken several, nostril-burning breaths of icy air and tried to reassure herself.

                Professor was safe. _(For the time being.)_

                Their friends were alive. _(She assumed.)_

                This stereo silence was caused by business. _(Unless he was lying.)_

                He missed her.

                He _missed_ her.

                Hattie had to hold in her sobs as she tip-toed up the walk and into the garage, quietly shutting herself away. She’d never imagined how isolating it could be to get everything she ever wanted: a family, in a place she enjoyed being, with people she loved. But then, she’d never imagined it would include leaving behind everyone she had ever cared about.

                That night she used trivial magic for the first time in a while. It felt like letting her soul unfurl from her body—the coils of magic, invisible, touched the walls and caressed the doorways. It flicked lights on in her path, opened and shut her door behind her, drew her curtains closed. Hattie stood and let it do her bidding, holding herself around the middle as if she would break otherwise. The magic turned down her bed, fetched her books from her trunk, rifled through the pages until it found where she’d left off. It pulled her shirt off over her head, tied her hair up high, dressed her in her nightclothes—all things she hadn’t had the luxury of doing privately in weeks.

                How would it feel to submit to the regime, Hattie wondered? Where she would be allowed to unleash her magic unrestrictedly whenever and wherever she wanted, without having to fear for her life or the lives of others around her. It would be freedom. It would be liberation.

                It would also be the murder and betrayal of her culture and the people dear to her.

                Why couldn’t she have lived in a time before the regime? She closed her eyes and pictured Boy Hattie— _Harry_ —whom she’d dreamed about often enough recently. He got to attend Hogwarts, he got to have friends and he even made a family for himself out of the numerous Weasleys. He got to use his magic freely when he was in the magical world.

                But he hated Severus—and Severus hated him. Hattie didn’t know if she could ever hate Severus.

                Hattie sighed and pulled her magic back into herself. It wouldn’t do to let herself go completely—keeping her magic in her core was an exercise, and letting go even for a moment weakened the muscle. It was like constantly sucking your stomach in.

                The book she’d pulled out held little interest for her, and after a few moments of attempting to read it she tossed it back in her trunk, restless. She threw herself back onto her bed, under her covers, staring at the ceiling.

                It wasn’t even eight o’clock, but she felt herself drifting to sleep. She didn’t fight it.

                That night she dreamt of green light, of a high, maniacal laugh. She dreamt of a woman screaming, pleading.

                “Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—” the woman was screaming.

                “This is my last warning—” the high, hissing voice warned.

                “Not Harry,” the woman begged. “Please…have mercy…have mercy…Not Harry! _Not Harry!_ Please—I’ll do anything!”

                And then silence, and the green light.

                Hattie woke up crying some time later, after more disturbing dreams she could not understand—the death of a man she never knew, falling through a curtained veil; writing with a quill which made her—no, Harry—bleed, _I must not tell lies_ emblazoned on his hand; eerie floating creatures that turned the room ice-cold and sucked the happiness out of her—Harry.

                The dreams became so jumbled in her head that she had a hard time remembering that they were only dreams. It seemed like they’d all been happening to _her._ Like…Harry was a character and she was playing the part.

                The most disturbing part? She ached for it to be true.

                When she reigned in her emotions, she pulled the blankets up around her neck. Someone—probably Bella—had turned her lights off for her. Hattie blamed her recent lack of emotional stability on her upcoming time of the month, though she’d never reacted this way before.

                “What is wrong with me?” she wondered softly. She rolled as best she could onto her side, her preferred sleeping position—but it was impossible with her cast. Still, she struggled, until she cried out in frustration and pain. She was—so _tired_ —of this. Of wondering, of aching, of feeling hollow. And now she couldn’t even comfort herself, self-sooth in the position of her choice.

                In a moment of irrational, unthinking anger, she dashed her fingers over her elbow, feeling the nearly-healed wound. Her magic uncoiled at her first whim—the muscle was loose from her earlier foray. It did her bidding, healing the rest of the broken bone.

                It was only after she’d done it that Hattie realized it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t go back to see Doctor Cullen for another week—she’d still have to deal with the cast, with the immobility. She just hoped that her irrationality wouldn’t gain her any suspicion when the next X-Ray came back with no signs of a break having ever been there.

                “ _Damn_ it,” Hattie whimpered, rolling out of bed. She landed on the balls of her feet, barely making a noise as she padded barefoot to her desk. She was in her undies and an overlarge t-shirt, and the desk chair was cold on her bum.

                She rifled through her drawers for a moment, making too much noise, she was sure. The sun hadn’t even broken the horizon yet, but the sky was lightening. She made a noise of success when she finally got one of her journals free.

                This was a thin, more modern-looking book than her grimoires: made of paper bound inside a leather jacket, instead of parchment. It already boasted a multitude of full pages in Hattie’s messy, curly handwriting.

                As she sat there, she began filling another one, her pen flowing smoothly across the page.

_8 March / 9 March_

_Dreamt of Harry again. Someone was trying to save him (? His/our/my mother? Still unclear), screaming, ‘have mercy’ and offering her own life instead. The killer’s voice was high pitched and he seemed amused. He told her to step aside, like he cared specifically for killing Harry—but ended up killing her anyways._

_Also dreamt of a quill that cut me/Harry as we wrote. We must’ve written a hundred lines, “I must not tell lies”. It was emblazoned on his/my hand, a scab and then a scar. What was he lying about? Who made him do this? Did he do it to himself?_

_Was it a reminder, or a warning?_

_Dementors. I remember learning of them, both in Harry’s life and in my own. I’ve never seen one, though the idea of them scares me—Professor taught me the Patronus charm as a precaution and an extra way to communicate. A couple cornered Harry in Little Whinging and Harry saved Dudley’s life (can’t say I would’ve done the same, but Harry’s always been more honorable than me). The feeling of the thing was horrific: all icy cold and despair, like all that is bad in the world tenfold. Even thinking about it makes me clammy._

_Someone killed Sirius Black. I want to do research on this man but I don’t know where to start—Google brings up no results and prompts me: “Did you mean: Serious Black?” Perhaps he’s a fictional character, made up solely for these dreams. It seems odd, though, that I recognize almost everyone else except for him._

_Still, Harry was pretty upset. It seemed as if the world went silent around us as Sirius died. I felt it in my very soul, like a piece of me was suddenly missing…Harry/I tried to go after him, but Remus Lupin held us back. (He is another man I do not recognize, though he was Harry’s teacher for a year. Supposedly he was a friend of our parents’. I believe I remember McGonagall, in real life, speaking of a Lupin—but I can’t remember her mentioning a forename.)_

                Hattie continued chronicling her dreams, but as she came to the end things started getting foggier. She couldn’t remember what else, if anything, had happened—it seemed when she was near waking, her dreams were fleeting and immemorable.

                The first entry in the book dated all the way back to December—the date was vague, scratched out and written as “ _before Christmas??”_ because she hadn’t thought to write it down when it actually occurred. It was only as time went on and Hattie dreamt more and more about Harry that she began the journal. That first entry was simple—about a boy in outdated black robes, wearing a red and gold tie with a House Gryffindor sigil whose features morphed into hers.

                That morning, Hattie watched the sunrise. It wasn’t spectacular. The sky was foggy and dark even long after the sun appeared, promising to be a dreary day. Perfect—the weather would match her mood.

                Half of her didn’t want to go ask Bella for help getting dressed. Holding her magic inside her was suddenly exhausting; no doubt the result of letting loose last night. She needed to practice again. Some part of her felt guilty that she had risked discovery like that—but she cut it away, telling herself the regime did not reach this far.

                The wizards here were not the same as the wizards in Great Britain.

                Hattie made up her mind. She had come to Forks for a reason, and she’d waited long enough already—as soon as her cast was off, she would find the wizarding district in Seattle. Afterward, she’d approach the Quileute elders.

                When, inevitably, the time came (“Sooner than either of us would like,” Severus had said), Hattie was determined she’d be done with her task. She would leave Forks and join in the rebellion—she would smash the regime, personally if necessary. She would ensure the safety of her people. The safety of the family she’d made for herself: Severus and McGonagall and Hermione and Neville and precious Cecelia. She would ensure the war never darkened the Swans’ doorstep.

                Perhaps she would come back. Perhaps, by the time Severus called upon her, there would be no reason to come back.

                She was tired of living in secrecy, wondering when she’d get word one of her loved ones was dead. It hurt to think of leaving Charlie, and it devastated her to think about Jacob—the could-bes, would-bes.

                She didn’t even try to picture leaving Bella and Beau, who she had begun to think of as siblings—she didn’t want to think about the emotions she’d feel.

                But until then—she would be free. She would be the girl Charlie would have raised. She would be Hattie Swan.

—x—

                Bella and Hattie ate breakfast quietly in the kitchen. Charlie was already gone and Beau was still asleep—yet neither seemed ready to speak about the previous night. Both of them had slept roughly; you could see it in the bags under their eyes, the transparent paleness of their cheeks.

                It was at times like this you could see the blatant family resemblance between the duo. The same thin, pale skin, both hunched protectively over their cereal bowls. Even the set of their shoulders was the same as both were determined to hold their silence the longest.

                Finally, it was Hattie who broke it. The clatter of her spoon in her bowl was sharp in the stark silence of the kitchen.

                “That was nice of Edward, to pick you up,” she commented idly. Her tone was almost friendly.

                “Yeah,” Bella agreed, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—”

                “I was worried,” Hattie interrupted. “What happened to meeting at the bookstore?”

                “It didn’t look interesting,” Bella sighed. She resigned herself to telling as much of the truth as she could.

                “Well, it wasn’t, but you could’ve at least texted me.”

                “I couldn’t. I was…preoccupied,” Bella said in a strained voice.

                “With Edward,” Hattie stated.

                “No.” Bella shook her head. She played with a small curl—it was surprisingly coiled compared to the rest of her wavy hair. “Before Edward found me. I…a few men cornered me, in an alley.”

                “ _What?_ ” Hattie said, voice sharp. “What do you mean, a few men?”

                “I mean, four men. They herded me into an alley. I—I thought I was a goner. Then Edward showed up.”

                “ _Bella,_ ” Hattie yelped. “That’s not just something—I mean, should we tell Charlie?”

                “No, I can’t remember what they look like now,” Bella lied. “Besides, they didn’t do anything to me…they just scared me. Edward found us before anything bad could happen.”

                Hattie was pinching her nose in much the same way Edward had last night. Bella watched, fascinated. It was such a human response to frustration—when Hattie did it, it was clearly an exercise of self-control. What did it mean for Edward, then? Was it the same, or was it a habit leftover from being human?

                “After I left,” Hattie said slowly. “What’d you guys do? When did you get home?”

                Bella shrugged. “We ate dinner. Well, I ate—he didn’t order anything. I think he thought I was going to go into shock. We talked. About everything, about nothing. He drives really, really fast—it was terrifying. I swear we got back from Port Angeles in less than twenty minutes!”

                She was trying to gloss over the details, the things she couldn’t tell Hattie. It sucked keeping secrets, but she feared that Hattie wouldn’t handle them well—besides, they weren’t her secrets to tell. Still, Hattie seemed aware that Bella was omitting details, but she didn’t mention it.

                They both knew Hattie was hiding things, too.

                “That’s crazy,” Hattie said, lips quirking in a genuine smile. “I thought _Jessica_ drove fast. Man—I’m so ready to start driving again. I can’t wait to get this cast off. Do you want to go car hunting soon?”

                “Yeah, definitely,” Bella agreed. She slurped the milk out of her bowl. “So what about you? What did—your professor have to say? You seemed pretty messed up.”

                “His name’s Severus,” Hattie told her softly. She seemed reluctant to share the details. “He…he just told me he’s been busy, and that he was sorry he hadn’t contacted me. We didn’t get to talk much because he was getting ready to go into an important meeting.”

                “You seemed pretty upset about it though,” Bella pried. “There has to be more to it than that.”

                Hattie nodded, sloshing her cheerios around. “It just was weird, you know? I didn’t realize how…isolating it was going to be, coming here. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I love you guys, I love being here—it’s just that they’re my family. You guys will never get me the way they do, and not for lack of trying. I miss him. I think he misses me, too. He doesn’t have kids, see—or a wife or anything. I was his whole life.”

                Bella was reminded of Renee, and decided she’d call her after school. She’d been pretty lax on that, but Hattie’s words made her think that Renee probably missed Bella, too.

                “Do you think you’ll go back?” Bella asked. She could never get a handle on Hattie’s past. She and Beau had discussed, jokingly, the possibility of Hattie being in some sort of cult and running away—but she talked so fondly of everything that it was hard to believe.

                “Yes, most likely,” Hattie decided after a moment. “I’m not sure when. After school, maybe.”

                Bella traced the woodgrain on the table, put out. “Will you come back?”

                “Probably,” Hattie laughed. “I’d miss you too much.”

                Bella felt brave suddenly. The thought of Hattie going back to everything she’d left behind…it hurt her in more ways than one. She’d seen the scars on Hattie’s body after weeks of helping the other girl dress. They weren’t super serious, but definitely more numerous than any normal seventeen year old’s scars. She couldn’t fathom why Hattie would want to go back to a family who did that to her.

                “Hattie?” she said, before she could talk herself out of it. “Why do you want to go back so badly?”

                Hattie startled, looking at Bella confusedly. “What do you mean? I’m just—homesick.”

                “But how could you be homesick?” Bella demanded. “Hattie, I’ve seen your scars.”

                The smaller girl went rigid in her seat. Her green eyes were suddenly piercing, staring through Bella’s very soul. It was like being plunged in ice water. Bella shivered, suddenly regretting bringing it up.

                “What are you suggesting, Bella?” Hattie asked, her voice deadly precise.

                “That you were abused, in some way,” Bella stated. She enunciated her words very carefully, forcing herself to finish her self-imposed intervention.

                “And?” Hattie challenged. She was pulling the sleeves of her hoodie down around her hands, sort of sinking into herself.

                “And I don’t know why you’d want to go back to that.”

                “I _don’t,_ ” Hattie growled. “I’ll never go back to them.”

                “You just said—”

                “No, you just assumed,” Hattie interrupted. “I said I’d go back, yes. But you assumed I’d be going back to my _relatives._ No, I’m done with them—they wouldn’t take me back even if I wanted to go. I was nothing but a pretty face to flaunt for them. Notice that none of my _scars_ are visible with clothing on? Yeah, that was purposeful.”

                It was one thing to speculate and another to have her theories confirmed—Bella’s heart broke a little. The thought of what Hattie had gone through at the hands of their aunt and uncle made her quiver with anger.

                “So you’d go back and live with this Severus man,” Bella stated, trying to keep the waver out of her voice.

                “Yes,” Hattie agreed. “Or I’d get a place of my own. I have the money.”

                They were interrupted by the sound of Beau on the stairs. They’d been so preoccupied with their non-argument that they hadn’t even heard him stumbling about upstairs. Abruptly, the both of them went quiet, neither needing words to know they’d be keeping quiet for each other.

                A secret kept between sisters, almost.

                Beau was a floppy, excitable puppy as he bounded down the stairs. He, at least, seemed to be in a good mood today—and it was contagious. Soon, both girls were grinning reluctantly.

                “We’re gonna be late,” Beau pointed out, jabbing a thumb towards the clock above the stove. He was shoving cereal bars in his pockets as he scooped up his backpack. “Let’s head.”

                It was unusually foggy outside; the air was thick and somehow humid with it. After only a few seconds, Bella felt clammy—the mist was ice cold where it clung to her skin. Hattie’s already wild hair seemed to have gained a mind of its own, the messy curls frizzing about her head. Even Beau’s curls were starting to look more poodle-like than normal. It was such a thick fog that trio were nearly to the end of the driveway before they realized there was a car in it: a silver car.

                “Umm,” Beau said, scratching his head. “What’s Edward Cullen doing in our driveway?”

                Bella’s heartbeat sped up. So it _wasn’t_ a hallucination—he really was here.

                “He’s here for Bella,” Hattie said. She and Bella shared a knowing look—it was sort of fun to be on the inside of a secret.

                “Why would he be here for Bella?” Beau wondered bemusedly. Bella elbowed him, offended, but Hattie gave out a short laugh.

                “C’mon, Beau, let’s just get in the car.”

                Bella didn’t see where he came from, but Edward was suddenly there, holding his passenger door open.

                “Do you want to ride with me today?” he asked. His voice was gentlemanly, if unsure. He seemed amused by Bella’s surprise. He was searching her face—giving her a chance to refuse. Maybe part of him hoped she would…it was a vain hope.

                “Yes, thank you,” she chirped. She was attempting to imitate Hattie’s self-assured, cheerful tone—even if it wasn’t working, Edward seemed endeared by it. Bella tossed the keys to Beau, waving goodbye.

                “I can drive you all,” Edward offered, still in that gentlemanly tone. Bella understood where he was coming from, but she didn’t want her siblings riding along.

                Before she could even give Hattie a pleading look, her wonderful, angelic, godsent cousin was already speaking.

                “That’s alright—thanks though!”

                Then Bella was in the car, the door shut behind her.

                She noticed he had his tan jacket over the headrest of his passenger seat and felt a bubbly happiness build up in her stomach. He must’ve noticed her looking at it, because he grinned slightly bashfully.

                “I brought it in case you hadn’t gotten yours back—but I see I shouldn’t have worried.”

                He drove too quickly through the fog-shrouded streets, leaving Beau and Hattie behind in the truck. No doubt Beau was driving extra carefully this morning.

                Bella felt awkward today—last night the walls had all been down, but she wasn’t sure if they were being as candid today. She felt tongue-tied, waiting for him to speak.

                He didn’t disappoint. He turned to her, smirking. “No twenty-questions today?”

                “I wasn’t sure if we were doing that,” Bella responded. “Do my questions bother you?”

                “Not as much as your reactions do,” he admitted. “You take everything so coolly—it’s unnatural. It makes me wonder what you’re thinking.”

                Bella frowned. “I always tell you what I’m thinking.”

                “You edit,” Edward hummed. He didn’t seem to be arguing so much as adding on to her statement.

                Bella couldn’t deny this, so she stayed quiet. She was grateful, at this moment, that he couldn’t hear her thoughts—happy that she was _allowed_ to edit them. After all, it would have been embarrassing (and probably boring) for him to have to hear her ogling.

                It was only as they were pulling into the school parking lot that she had a sudden thought. “Where’s the rest of your family?” She was glad to be alone with him, of course, but his car was usually full to the bursting. If it didn’t have a third row, there would be no way for them to all fit.

                (She tried to imagine any of them climbing into the back, but couldn’t. She figured that, as with anything they did, it was done with grace.)

                “They took Rosalie’s car,” Edward responded, as they parked next to a glossy orange convertible with the top up. “Ostentatious, isn’t it?”

                Bella was stunned. “Um…wow. If she has that, why does she ride with you?”

                “We _try_ to blend in,” Edward responded, a smile quirking his lips.

                “You don’t succeed,” Bella laughed, shaking her head as they got out of the car. She wasn’t late—though Hattie and Beau, who were nowhere to be seen, might be. Edward’s lunatic driving was good for one thing, apparently. “So why did Rosalie drive today, if it’s more conspicuous?”

                “Haven’t you noticed?” Edward murmured, meeting her at the front of his Volvo. He stayed very close to her side as they walked onto campus—but never touching. Bella ached to close the gap, hold his hand, _anything,_ but she was afraid he wouldn’t want her to. “I’m breaking all the rules now.”

                “Why do you have cars like that at all, if you’re looking for privacy?” Bella wondered.

                Edward chuckled. “An indulgence, I suppose.” His smile was impish now. “We all like to drive fast.”

                “Figures,” Bella muttered good-naturedly. They were nearing the cafeteria now, and she finally saw her siblings pull in. “If they’re not quick, they’re going to be late.”

                “I hope they don’t hold it against me,” Edward grinned.

                “They won’t.”

                Under the overhang of the cafeteria Jessica stood, gossiping with McKayla. When they noticed Bella and Edward approach, both of them stared on with huge, bug-like eyes. McKayla scurried off to class with a short word to Jessica.

                “Hey, Jess,” Bella called.

                “Good morning, Jessica,” Edward said politely. This caused more ogling—it really wasn’t _his_ fault the things his voice could do.

                “Er…hi,” Jessica said, shifting her wide eyes to Bella. It was almost funny how blatantly jumbled her thoughts were. “I guess I’ll see you in Trig.”

                She gave Bella a very meaningful look as she hurried off to class, and Bella groaned. What was she going to tell her?

                “What are you going to tell her?” Edward asked, echoing Bella’s thoughts. She whipped around to stare at him.

                “I thought you couldn’t read my mind?” she hissed.

                “I can’t,” he responded, visibly startled. Then he seemed to understand, smirking. “I can, however, read hers. She’s waiting to ambush you later today.”

                Bella groaned, running her fingers through her damp hair. They were nearly to class when she finally asked, “What does she want to know?”

                Edward chuckled. “That’s cheating,” he accused. But then he continued, after a moment of deliberation. “She wants to know if we’re secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me.”

                “Yikes,” Bella murmured, trying to sound innocent. Her cheeks were red as she stood next to the English building. “What should I say?”

                “Hmm.” He paused to catch a stray lock of hair that had escaped her up-do, winding it carefully back into place. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable as when Mike had done it—in fact, her heart beat faster, appreciating the feather-light touches of his fingers. “I suppose…you could say yes to the first. If you don’t mind, that is.”

                “I don’t mind,” Bella assured, maybe a beat too quickly.

                “And as for her other question—well, I’ll be listening to hear the answer to that one, myself.” His cheek pulled up into her favorite half-smile, catching her breath. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he called over his shoulder.

                Three people walking in the door paused to stare at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Hattie, who was slightly breathless from the brisk walk up, stopped next to Bella. They walked in together, Beau left in the distance (it seemed Hattie found it amusing that he couldn’t keep up with her).

                “So…” Hattie said, drawing the word out. “That’s a thing now?”

                “I guess so,” Bella whispered, blushing. Hattie nudged her playfully as they went to their own seats, but Bella was lost in thought. Edward would be listening in to whatever she told Jessica.

                How nerve-wracking.

                Beau barely made it in the door before the bell rang, glaring grumpily at Hattie as he slouched to his seat, sullen. The girl in question was blatantly ignoring him, a mischievous smile on her face.

                After English Mike accosted her, asking about Port Angeles. It seemed more of a ruse to ask about Jessica, though—Bella assured him that Jessica had fun on their date, and he seemed appeased.

                Edward was right, of course. When she walked into Trig after Government, Jessica was seated in the back, nearly bouncing out of her seat in agitated excitement. Bella wondered if she could get away with skipping, or at least sitting elsewhere for the day—but she’d already been spotted.

                She walked over reluctantly, taking her seat. She tried to convince herself it was like ripping a band-aid off—less painful to just get it over with than to drag it out.

                “Tell me everything!” Jessica commanded, even before Bella had sat.

                “There’s not much to tell,” Bella sighed, even though that was the biggest lie of the century. Still, if she couldn’t tell her _sister,_ there was no way she could tell Jessica.

                “What happened last night?” Jessica prompted, seeming to ignore Bella completely.

                “He bought me dinner,” Bella responded, shortly. “And drove me home.”

                Jessica processed this for a second, glaring at her with skepticism. “But how did you get home so fast?”

                “He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying.” (She definitely hoped he heard that bit.)

                “Was it like a date—did you tell him to meet you there?”

                Bella shook her head, trying not to roll her eyes. If only Jessica knew. “No, I was very surprised to see him there.”

                Jessica’s lips puckered in disappointment—clearly at the transparent honesty in Bella’s voice. “Okay, but he picked you up for school today?”

                “Yes…that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn’t have a jacket tonight—but Hattie brought mine home.”

                Jessica huffed. Clearly this wasn’t as gossip-worthy as she wanted. “Are you going to go out again?”

                “He offered to drive me to Seattle,” Bella said. Then, she elaborated, “But only because he doesn’t think my truck is up to the drive. Does that count?”

                “Yes.”

                “Well, then, yes.”

                “ _Wow._ ” The word somehow gained two extra syllables when Jessica breathed it. “Edward Cullen.”

                “I know,” Bella agreed, smiling lightly.

                “Wait!” her hands flew up, palms facing outward—like she was stopping traffic. “Has he _kissed_ you yet?”

                “No,” Bella said. Though she tried to hide it, she could clearly hear the disappointment in her own voice. “Not yet.”

                Jessica looked, if possible, more disappointed than Bella felt. “Do you think Saturday…?”

                Bella shook her head, frowning. “I really don’t think so, Jess.” The discontent in her voice was poorly disguised.

                “Please, Bella,” Jessica begged. “Give me some details!”

                “Okay, fine,” Bella sighed. “I’ve got one. You should’ve seen the waitress flirting with him—it was over the top. But he didn’t pay attention to her at all.”

                “That’s a good sign,” Jessica nodded. “Was she pretty? He doesn’t look at Hattie, either.”

                Bella’s eyebrows pulled together at the insinuation that Hattie was prettier than her—even if it was true, it wasn’t something you wanted to hear. There was just something about the girl that drew others to her. She was like a princess, _regal,_ or a fairy. Not the kind of super-model gorgeous the Cullens possessed, but polished. Still—Jess was right. Edward sometimes looked at Hattie, but not with that sort of interest.

                It was pleasing to her.

                “Yeah, very pretty,” she continued, pushing away her thoughts. They were petty, anyways. “And older—maybe nineteen, twenty.”

                “Even better,” Jess gushed quietly. The teacher wasn’t paying them any attention and they were hardly the only ones whispering. “He must like you.”

                “I think so,” Bella agreed. “But it’s hard to tell sometimes. He’s always so cryptic.”

                “I don’t know how you’re brave enough to be alone with him,” Jessica breathed, almost wistfully. “He’s so…intimidating. I wouldn’t know what to say to him.”

                Bella’s lips quirked up. “I do have some trouble with incoherency when I’m around him.”

                “Oh well,” Jessica shrugged. “He’s unbelievably gorgeous.” She said it like it excused any flaws he might have…which, for Jessica, it probably did.

                “There’s a lot more to him than that,” Bella protested, but she wished she’d let it go. She hoped he’d been kidding about listening in.

                “Really? Like what?”

                “I can’t explain it right—you just have to trust me. He’s even more unbelievable behind the face.”

                Bella stared off into the center of the room, lost in thoughts of the previous night. The vampire who wanted to be good—who protected her—who cared whether she lived or died. Yes…a lot more to him than beauty.

                “So you like him, then?” Jessica prompted eagerly. She wasn’t about to give up.

                “Yes,” Bella said, curtly. She didn’t want Edward listening in to something like this.

                “How much do you like him?” she urged, clearly wanting the gossip. Bella rolled her eyes for real this time.

                “Too much,” Bella elaborated. “More than he likes me, I’m sure. But I don’t see how that can be helped.”

                She continued blushing, but now there was a small smile on her face. She could finally understand why Hattie seemed so lost in her text messages whenever the phone went off—if her sister felt for Jacob half of what Bella felt for Edward, it was all the explanation she’d ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter!! :) 
> 
> I got tired of adding in all of the paragraph indents... AO3 is pretty infuriating about keeping my formatting in that regard! So I just took them out, for this chapter. Perhaps one day when I'm feeling more patient, I'll add them back in :P 
> 
> As always, any questions or comments are appreciated! 
> 
> **QUESTION:** Is there anything you'd particularly like to see Beau getting up to? Note that his final pairing is mostly decided already, but a lot of his story is up in the air right now. I debated sending him away to art school, I debated making him some sort of graffiti artist, I debated him getting bit by a werewolf, etc. I just don't know what I want to see from him!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- We skip the infamous lunch scene with Eddie and Bells where they discuss what Edward heard in Jessica's mind. If you want to read it, if only for continuity, it's Twilight Chapter 10 (Interrogations). (You can find it easily online.)  
> \- Also, you will have noticed that the Cullens DO eat food...in my canon, they eat it for appearances. It tastes fine, if unsatisfying.

_“You want meaning? Well, the meanings are out there. We're just so damn good at reading them wrong.” —[Rachel Cohn](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13139.Rachel_Cohn)_

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                The tell-tale weight of a letter dropped into Hattie’s pocket as she and Beau made their way toward lunch. Or, rather, _tried_ to drop into her pocket—the shoddy, imprecise magic missed, catching only the corner of her pocket and then dropping onto the floor.

                Her heart beat painfully as she stared down at the letter. It was folded in fours, like Severus always did, but the handwriting was crisper, less script-like. She’d never seen it before, and the magic that had brushed the skin of her hip was unfamiliar to her. The first thing that had ran through her mind was “dark wizard”, but she’d shaken it out, reassuring herself.

                This was not how one normally used the banishing spell. It was thinking outside the box. If someone else had randomly decided to use this method to contact her, it would be a huge coincidence. Still, the fact that she didn’t recognize the writer’s magic was off-putting: it meant either Severus’ mind had been probed, or he had trusted this person enough to give away secrets.

                Either way, she was wary.

                She had spent too long staring at the letter on the ground. Beau’s pale hand bent down to scoop it up as he caught her attention.

                “Are you feeling alright, Hattie?” he asked, snapping his fingers in front of her face. She blinked wildly, coming out of her thoughts.

                “What? Oh, yes. I just—got lost for a moment,” she laughed, taking the letter from him. “Sorry about that.”

                “You got a new letter?” he wondered as they continued walking. “That’s good, right?”

                “Yeah, I haven’t read it yet,” Hattie said. “I’ve been caught up—Professor called me last night, so I figured the letter couldn’t be too urgent.”

                The lies slipped through her lips much too easily, and for a moment she felt guilty. But Beau just continued, being his cheerful self.

                “I might actually head to the truck and read this,” Hattie decided after a minute. “You head on without me, okay?”

                “Yeah, sure,” Beau waved as he pulled away from her. “Want me to get you anything?”

                “Nah, I brought lunch,” she called, turning to shoulder her way through the crowds. Now that she had healed her arm, she didn’t baby it quite as much—not so scared of being jostled. The cast was merely an annoyance, a hindrance.

                The truck was unlocked, so she climbed in with a little bit of struggling. It was just high enough that she couldn’t step in, and with the cast it could be tricky to climb, but she made it. The cab was dry and warm enough that Hattie shed her jacket and book bag, curling against the door.

                The letter had her name written neatly on the front: Miss Hattie Potter. The formality made her lips twitch a little—she didn’t think anyone had called her ‘Miss’ in a long time.

                Inside was more of the same neat, crisp handwriting. Her heart nearly stopped when she read the first line:

_Forgive me for my informality. I know you don’t know me, but my name is Remus Lupin._

                It was merely a coincidence, she was sure. Mr. Lupin had no way of knowing she’d dreamt of him only the night previously—without having met him a single time. She shoved away the itchy paranoia that tried to build inside of her and continued reading the letter.

_Hattie,_

_Forgive me for my informality. I know you don’t know me, but my name is Remus Lupin. I was a friend of your father’s. James and I grew up together. We attended Hogwarts—we were both in Gryffindor. I’m not sure how much this means to you, given you’ve never been granted the same opportunity, but Severus said you’d like to know all the same._

_Speaking of Severus—he is well. I’ve been trying to write this letter for a few days now, so I believe you may have already spoken to him by the time this gets to you. As I’m sure you’ve already assumed, he is the one who told me how to correspond with you._

_I’ve been out of the country for many years and have never had the opportunity to meet you. (Dare I say it, even if I had been in the country, we probably still would never have met.) Severus told me to be rather discreet in my correspondence with you, lest these letters fall into hands other than your own, so forgive me for not elaborating._

_However, I_ did _know you as an infant. Your first word was ‘Moony’, did you know? James and our other friends gave me that moniker as children, and he was at once amused and irritated that you said my name before his own._

_I have recently joined your alliance—your ‘network’ as Severus says. I was a part of it back in the day, when Albus Dumbledore was still around, and it’s simultaneously refreshing and stark to see the familiar faces…and all those who are missing. The missions we are discussing now involve high personal risk, and so I found myself regretting never having contacted you before._

_From what I gather, pieced together from the mouths of your alliance, Severus practically raised you. I’m grateful for that. You see, James and our friends—yes, including myself—were never kind to Severus when we were children. It was petty schoolyard bullying. I’m ashamed to have been a part of it, but I have made my peace with Severus. I hope he did well by you—from what the others say, you are a brilliant young girl. I hope to one day meet you and decide for myself._

_Hattie, I’m writing you now because I am a part of your history. My…partner…is your godfather. You will not have met him either: Sirius Black has been imprisoned within the regime ever since your parents were killed. I may very well die in the upcoming missions Severus has planned. I am writing you because I want you to know I have always cared about you. The very thought of you has kept me going these past fifteen years. Though I never contacted you, I never once forgot about you: in my darkest hours, you were the light that pushed me onwards._

_Severus informed me of your greatest desire, to become an Animagus. It warms my heart in a way I haven’t felt for many years, Hattie. Did you know your father was one? Did you know your godfather was? It was always their dream to pass their legacy down to you one day._

_“The Marauders,” we called ourselves. It is with pride (and a heavy heart, and many tears) that I pass down our secrets. Once you have read this letter, place it on a flat surface—I’m ashamed to say that banishing this letter to you is going to be difficult enough, let alone an entire package._

_I’m sorry, but I could not include our greatest heirloom. Perhaps, when all is said and done, you will be given the Map. Until that time, I hope you will appreciate the rest._

_I apologize if this is forward, but I would greatly appreciate it if you wrote me back._

_With love,_

_Moony_

                Hattie’s mind was whirring a million miles a minute. She was trying to connect everything, fill in puzzle pieces, but all she could think of was her dream the previous night, and _no wonder Harry was upset when Sirius died…he was our godfather…_

                After a moment, she finally forced herself to lay the letter flat, watching it greedily. Heirlooms, especially from her father, were not something she had many of…in fact, she didn’t have _anything_ from him.

                Mr. Lupin—Remus— _Moony_ was an untapped fountain of information, and so _genuine_ to boot. In very few words he explained why Severus had never wanted to be Hattie’s father—essentially, he would’ve been likened to his childhood bully. The knowledge made her want to cry. It wasn’t that Severus didn’t _want_ her; he just didn’t want to be James Potter.

                And all these years she had thought him simply cold.

                At the same time, Moony had left Hattie with more knowledge of her babyhood and family history than she’d ever had. The _Marauders,_ he said. A legacy.

                As if summoned by her thoughts, the letter glowed bright white. When the glow diminished, there was a shrunken packaged deposited precisely in the center of the letter.

                She was too eager to wait. She unshrunk the package with a murmured _finite,_ after glancing around to see if there was anyone nearby. The package was compact, but hefty, held closed with clear packing tape. She tore into it, excited.

                Within, she found…not what she was expecting.

                On top was an out-of-style wizard’s robe. It was a silvery, silky material that she couldn’t place—perhaps from a magical creature. She pulled it out carefully, noting that it was old: its cut was even older than the robes Severus sometimes wore. A note fell out, scrawled in Moony’s crisp handwriting.

                _Family heirloom, passed down through Potter heirs. Cloak of Invisibility._

Invisibility? Hattie thought, shocked. She laid it over her thighs and laughed, nearly giddy with excitement—her thighs were completely gone. What a treasure! And it had not just come from her father, but her absent ancestors. She pulled it to her chest, inhaling deeply. It smelled smoky, like ozone and petrichor…like a wizard. And, at the same time, it smelled like it had been in storage for many years…like mothballs and cardboard.

                She tried to hide her disappointment, but Hattie didn’t know what she was expecting. Her father had been dead for nearly 16 years. Of course his old cloak wouldn’t smell of him anymore.

                Underneath was _The Marauder’s Grimoire._ It was full of spells and potions Hattie had never heard of—mostly used for silly things, like pranks. Some were more complex than others, and it was a mixture of four different sets of handwriting that filled the book.

                Midway through it was a bookmark with her name on it. She flipped the book open to the marker, curiosity burning through her.

                **_The Marauders’ Fantastic Journey to Becoming Animagi._**

                _No._ Moony couldn’t have possibly gotten her a first-hand account—Hattie’s eyes searched the pages hungrily, taking in the words. He _had_ gotten her a first-hand account. And, not only that—in the box was another book, an actual published guide on the journey to becoming an Animagus. The grimoire was annotated with page numbers from the book, and the book had notes in the margin.

                This…was amazing. This was the best gift anyone had ever given her.

                And yet, impossibly, there was one more thing in the package. It was a photo album full of magical photos, mostly of the same three boys: one was clearly her father—she looked just like him. One she recognized as a young Sirius Black, looking much the same as he did in her dreams. The last must be Moony. Nearer to the back, though, were ones that included Lily Potter.

                One glorious photo was of Lily and James holding Hattie, dressed in a powder blue Babygro. Lily was smiling tiredly, but proudly, looking between Hattie’s face and the camera. James was grinning full-on, using one hand to make Hattie wave.  He never looked away from her chubby face.

                Hattie slipped the photo out of its album, murmuring a soft word to freeze it in place. Then she packed everything else back into the package and reshrunk it, placing it carefully into her book bag.

                She couldn’t stop looking at the photo of her tiny family. The bell eventually rang, though, signaling the end of lunch, and Hattie dashed a few traitorous tears away.

                As she slid out of Bella and Beau’s monstrous truck, Hattie was filled with the obsessive need to write Moony.

—x—

                Bella was eager to meet up with Hattie during gym, but when Edward left her—feeling wobbly and dazed—she was running late. They didn’t get a chance to do more than smile and wave before Mike caught her and asked to team up.

                They played badminton, and it did _not_ go smoothly. Somehow Bella managed to hit both herself and Mike in the same swing. Across from them, Jessica and Beau were laughing, and Mike managed to single-handedly win four of their five games.

                Then, even afterward, Bella had a hard time shaking her puppy-dog friend. He followed her to the mouth of the women’s locker room, vibrating like a toddler with an energy drink.

                “So,” he said, almost reluctantly. Bella glanced up at him, noticing that Hattie was making her way over slowly. She tried to will her sister to move a little faster.

                “So what?” she murmured cautiously.

                “You and Cullen, huh?” Mike asked rebelliously. His vibrating stopped, and any affection Bella may have held for him suddenly disappeared.

                “That’s none of your business, Mike,” Bella warned. She thought about cursing Jessica’s big mouth, but anybody who had been paying attention during the day could’ve come to the same conclusion.

                “I don’t like it,” Mike muttered anyways, eyes dark.

                “You don’t have to,” Bella snapped.

                “He looks at you like…like you’re something to eat,” Mike retorted, ignoring her.

                Bella choked back the sudden hysteria that statement brought on, letting only a tiny giggle escape—Mike was glowering at her, but luckily Hattie arrived. Finally. Mike could clearly see that the conversation wouldn’t be continuing and fled to his own locker room, allowing Bella and Hattie to shoulder into the women’s.

                “Haven’t seen much of you today,” Hattie commented. “Boyfriend might have to learn his boundaries.”

                “‘Boyfriend’, is he?” Bella teased hollowly, the word sending butterflies through her stomach.

                “You looked pretty cozy during biology,” Hattie affirmed, sending a sneaky smile at Bella. It warmed her slightly—clearly their conversation from this morning was forgiven, even if Bella was sad that her cousin-come-sister was abused in any way growing up.

                “You saw all that?” Bella asked as she began changing. Hattie made herself comfortable on the bench, careful to avert her eyes from the girls surrounding them.

                “Yeah, I noticed you jump when he touched you,” Hattie giggled.

                “Oh—yeah…this is so cliché, but it was like electricity,” Bella explained quietly. “When he touches me, it feels like I’ve got electricity running through my veins. And before gym, too, he touched my cheek and it was burning hot.”

                Hattie smiled wistfully. “Sounds nice. Romantic,” she murmured.

                “You don’t have that, with Jacob?” Bella asked curiously. They were the last ones in the dressing room now. Bella’s stomach lurched as she wondered if Edward would be waiting for her—or if she was going to go home with her siblings. Maybe his family would be with him. She fought the thrill of terror at the thought; did they know that she knew about them? Bella shook her head, focusing back on Hattie.

                Hattie was leaning back against the lockers, staring off into the distance. “You know, it’s hard to say. We have not spent that much time physically together. But there was once…Well. He is warm, though—sometimes so warm it’s like a fever. I am always focused on the feeling of him rather than the emotions he brings. Does that make sense?”

                “I guess so,” Bella agreed. They both came to the conclusion that it was time to leave at seemingly the same moment, because Hattie surged to her feet. “Are you looking forward to the dance?”

                “I am nervous,” Hattie sighed. “But at the same time, I know I do not have to be nervous. It’s like Jacob is mine already.”

                “I wish I felt the same…” Bella muttered. “Anyways, I think I’m going to skip Seattle on Saturday.”

                “Oh? What are you going to do?”

                “Edward invited me to hang out with him,” Bella said secretively. “He wanted me to tell someone, but I don’t think Charlie would approve.”

                Hattie looked conflicted but nodded a little. “You do not really want him to know.”

                “Not yet,” she murmured. “I’m sorry for putting this on you…”

                Hattie smiled. “No, it’s okay. What are sisters good for, anyways?”

                Bella glanced up to see Hattie’s smile fall, and the girl looked openly embarrassed. Bella herself was surprised…she was always thinking, privately, that Hattie was her sister, but they hadn’t discussed it before. Hattie was opening her mouth to correct herself as they exited the locker room, but she quickly interrupted the girl.

                “No, you’re right,” Bella said hastily, cutting Hattie off. They both came to a stop outside the doors. “You’re my sister in every way that counts.”

                Hattie was blushing, not looking Bella in the eye. “It was presumptuous.”

                “I always think of you as my sister,” Bella reassured, a little awkwardly. Sometimes, interactions with Hattie were like those of an attention-starved puppy. After their conversation this morning, it made much more sense.

                “Really?” Hattie whispered, blinking rapidly. “I’m…thank you.”

                Then, abruptly, they were hugging. Bella froze in shock at the sudden movement, the resounding thud of Hattie’s bag hitting the floor. The girl was very good at hugging, tight, put-all-your-pieces-back-together kind of hugs. It was strange for Bella—she didn’t usually hug people.

                “What’s going on?” Beau’s anxious voice cut in. Their brother was coming out of his own locker room—always the last one. “Edward? Why is Hattie crying?”

                Bella glanced up and found her… _boyfriend_ standing several feet away, watching the scene with curious (and yet concerned) eyes. Hattie pulled away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

                “Nothing, I’m okay,” Hattie laughed wetly, leaning down to get her bag. Edward was there first, handing it off before retreating to Bella’s side. “Thanks, Edward.”

                “Bella?” Beau muttered, looking between the girls. He looked like he was going insane.

                “Sometimes, sisters have secrets,” Bella replied mysteriously, trying to answer his question without setting Hattie off.

                Beau seemed to get it, mouthing ‘sisters’ as he ran his hand through his hair. It seemed to defy gravity, getting larger with his frustration levels.

                “Well, we best get on with it,” Hattie chuckled nervously, her accent thick. “You’re going with Edward, Bella?”

                “Um, yes,” Bella agreed hastily. “See you at home.”

                She watched her siblings leave, turning to Edward with some trepidation. He was glancing between the three of them, obviously trying to figure them out.

                “What was that about?” he wondered as he began to usher them toward the parking lot.

                “I told Hattie I was going to be with you on Saturday,” Bella said. “She mentioned she’d keep it a secret from Charlie, because that’s what sisters did. Cue the conversation you saw.”

                “She’s a strange one,” Edward replied, eyebrows furrowed. “I can never get a read on her.”

                “What do you mean?” Bella asked. She was sure to keep her voice down, though most of the students were already long gone.

                “Besides her mind? She kept thinking about a ‘professor’, something to do with the moon, and you two. I got the impression she was thinking about her family, but it’s so very hard to hear her…a lot of it is interpretation. She always has strange thoughts—sometimes I wonder if she’s thinking in a language I can’t comprehend, and things get lost in translation.” He sounded frustrated, yet fascinated.

                “She is a strange one,” Bella agreed quietly. “But she’s been through a lot, Edward. Give her some slack if her thoughts are a little odd.”

                “It’s not just her thoughts,” Edward muttered. His eyes were now on Hattie, across the parking lot, as Beau helped her into the truck. “She smells…different.”

                “Different how?” Bella questioned. She hadn’t noticed anything weird about her sister’s scent, truthfully. There were other things: the journals she kept (Bella could never bring herself to open them), the way she somehow radiated static electricity (Bella had been zapped on multiple occasions) …and she still was half-convinced Hattie was part of a religious cult and had run away.

                “Most of the time she smells like…hm. How to explain it to a human?” he pondered. “It’s different than the scents you put on your body, it’s an…internal smell, like pheromones I guess. Her shampoo smells like vanilla, but it’s underneath that: she smells like sunshine warming a calm riverbed, like the spray of mist at the bottom of a waterfall. And at other times she smells like electricity…like something just struck by lightning, like the pavement after heavy rainfall as it warms in the sun.”

                “Petrichor,” Bella said idly.

                “Pardon?”

                “The pavement, after a heavy rainfall, as it warms in the sun. That scent is petrichor.”

                “I see,” Edward said bemusedly. “Yes, petrichor. Regardless, it is strange. Most humans don’t smell that way…they smell like food.”

                Bella paused on their way to his car—the orange convertible was gone by now, as were most of the other cars. She didn’t like that Hattie didn’t smell like food to him, it rubbed her in a weird way.

                “What do I smell like?” she asked, playing at neutral.

                “Like fresh fruit,” Edward responded immediately. “Berries and citrus fruits, coconuts, melons. You’ve got a crisp, pure scent—not like some of the other humans I’ve encountered, who just smell like meat.”

                Well, okay then. That wasn’t nearly as insulting as Bella had imagined. Suddenly she didn’t care as much that Hattie smelled like a waterfall.

                Of course, they arrived at Charlie’s house much faster than should have been possible. Bella didn’t look out the windows for most of the way. As he parked the Volvo at the end of her driveway, behind the truck, Bella suddenly remembered their lunch conversation.

                “It’s later,” she said, turning to Edward.

                “And you still want to know why you can’t see us hunt,” Edward clarified, solemnly. He couldn’t keep the slightest trace of humor from his eyes, though.

                “Well, I was mostly wondering about your reaction,” Bella explained. He had been so adamantly against it, nearly shouting at her.

                “Did I frighten you?” he asked—and yes, there was definitely humor in his voice.

                “No,” she lied, reluctant to give him the satisfaction. Of course, he saw right through it anyways.

                “I apologize for scaring you,” he persisted, with a tight smile. Then, all evidence of teasing disappeared. “It was just the very thought of you being there…while we hunted.” His jaw tightened, and she saw him swallow.

                “That would be bad,” Bella stated.

                His teeth were clenched as he answered. “Extremely.”

                “Because…?”

                He took a deep breath as he stared out the window, watching the clouds roll by. They were thick, oppressive, threatening rain at any moment.

                “When we hunt…” his voice was slow, unwilling. “We give ourselves over to our sense…govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…” he shook his head, still gazing out the window. One of the curtains in the kitchen twitched but didn’t open.

                Bella kept her expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes that soon followed. Her face gave nothing away, but their gaze held. The silence deepened—changed. Flickers of the electricity she’d tried explaining to Hattie began charging the atmosphere as he gazed unrelentingly into her eyes. It wasn’t until her head started to swim that she realized she wasn’t breathing. When she drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, he closed his eyes.

                “Bella, I think you should go inside now.” His low voice was rough, sending shivers down her spine, but his gaze was on the clouds again.

                She got out of the car, taking care not to stumble in her woozy state. As she latched the door shut, he rolled the window down, catching her attention again.

                “Oh, and Bella?”

                “Yes?”

                “Tomorrow it’s my turn.”

                “Your turn to what?”

                He flashed a grin at her. “Ask the questions.”

                And then he was gone—nothing but a flash of silver SUV rounding the corner. Bella smiled to herself as she walked toward the house, anticipating an ambush.

                At least he was planning on seeing her tomorrow, if nothing else.

                But, luckily, the ambush did not come—Hattie and Beau were laughing in the kitchen, hunched over a stack of photo albums.

                “Oh, look at this one—this must be Aunt Petunia’s wedding, look, it’s Charlie and Renee and your parents, Hattie,” Beau was pointing out. It was an old album of Charlie’s, Bella noted as she came closer. “Look, Bells,” Beau chuckled when he noticed her.

                The picture indeed was Petunia’s wedding. It was stuffy-looking, formal. Petunia was wearing a vintage, frilly wedding dress that might have been gorgeous on anyone else, but it didn’t quite fall right on her. Her husband was a hefty, rather over-weight man wearing a tuxedo that, while fitted, did nothing for his figure. They stood on one side of the photo, both wearing stiff, fake smiles. Next to them were Charlie and Renee. Both looked young, the light still in their eyes: Charlie’s hair was full and curly, no greys. Renee even looked put together, her arm twisted through Charlie’s lovingly.

                Then, to the right, was the last Evans sibling. It was funny, in a way, that the Evans name had died out with their grandparents: Petunia took the name Dursley, Lily took the name Potter, and Charlie, the only boy, had been persuaded to take Swan. It was a concept much rarer then than it was now: almost frowned upon. But Renee hadn’t wanted to part with what she called a beautiful, elegant name.

                (Funny how she was now a Dwyer. Perhaps some part of her had known, even then, that the marriage wouldn’t last.)

                Lily and James were the most lively of the group. Lily was easily the most beautiful—even if Bella was reluctant to admit so, on behalf of her mother—and James Potter was one of the most dashing men Bella had ever seen. It was no wonder their daughter was beautiful. Lily wore a simple, pale green dress and a cover up that slipped off her shoulders. Her flaming red hair was in an intricate braid off to one side and she wore no makeup over her freckly face. James had dress pants and a button up on, his tie matching Lily’s dress. Glasses slid down his aristocratic nose, and his wild hair looked perfectly styled that way.

                “Wow, you really look like your dad,” Bella said, blinking. “Except you have your mom’s eyes.”

                “And her lips,” Hattie added, rubbing her thumb over her own lips. They were full, puffy lips—actually almost too large for her cherubic face. It somehow fit her, though.

                “Why did you guys get the photos out?” Bella wondered, grabbing one to flip through. It happened to be pretty empty, but it was clearly Hattie’s—there was a picture of her and Charlie fishing, of Jacob and Hattie asleep on a couch, Hattie putting the star on Charlie’s Christmas tree. Even a handful more, like Beau and Hattie holding up clay sculptures at school, or Bella and Hattie curled up in her hospital bed after Hattie’s accident.

                “Hattie’s dad’s friend sent her a picture,” Beau explained.

                Hattie was already handing it over. It was of Lily and James again, slightly older now, a few worry lines around their eyes. They held baby Hattie between them, looking all at once proud and tired.

                “Awh, you’re so cute, Hattie,” Bella chuckled. “Why do they have you dressed in blue, though? Weren’t they pretty strict about gender roles back then?”

                Her own mother had been _very_ strict about it back when they were kids. There were plenty of pictures of Bella and Beau in coordinating outfits—only Bella was in pinks and purples and Beau was in blues and greens. ‘Girl’ colors and ‘boy’ colors.

                Hattie took the photo back and eyed it with some curiosity, her eyebrows drawing together. “Yeah, I don’t know,” she murmured, half-hearted.

                “Maybe it was hand-me-downs from a friend,” Beau said. “Or maybe your parents were just really modern.”

                “You’re probably right,” Hattie said, seeming to be elsewhere. “Anyways, I think I’m going to retire, alright? I have a book calling my name upstairs. Make my excuses to Uncle Charlie, alright?”

                She took her albums and left the kitchen absent-mindedly. Beau and Bella glanced each other, wondering what was going on with their sister.

                That night, long after they’d all parted ways—even Hattie was asleep in bed, with a book and one of her journals spread out before her—Bella slipped into a restless sleep. She dreamt of Edward, his intense gaze, the electricity that had charged the afternoon. She tossed and turned in her sleep, seeking friction she could not find. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving along! :D In this chapter we had:  
> \- Moony's introduction!  
> \- Some background on some of the Potters' family (Sirius, imprisoned--Moony left alone--the Marauders' bullying)  
> \- Hattie receives some Marauder/Potter heirlooms!  
> \- Bella and Hattie share a sweet moment  
> \- Edward explains about Hattie's scent not smelling like food (for any of you wondering at his control when Hattie was bleeding everywhere, this is why) and how she's "strange"  
> \- A little background on the Evans' family
> 
> Hope you liked it :) <3 Still having trouble with Chapter 41. I need to get on with it soon!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter just because :D   
> \- Follows the timeline of Twilight: 11 through Twilight: 12

_“If I kiss you all day every day for the rest of my life, it won’t be enough.” ―_ [ _Cassandra Clare_ ](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/150038.Cassandra_Clare)

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                After Hattie had departed, she retreated to her room and isolated herself. She kicked her shoes and pants off, shed her bra with magic (once again guiltily telling herself she was done using magic), and curled up in bed. She had the picture Moony had sent her along with a fresh grimoire (charmed to be muggle-repellant), the book on Animagi, and the Marauders’ grimoire.

The picture frustrated her. What Bella had said—about her wearing blue, and the gender roles—was really getting to her. Why _was_ she wearing blue? It was probably just a quirk of her parents’, or maybe it was like Beau had said, they’d been hand-me-downs. It just rubbed her the wrong way. All of the dreams about ‘Harry’ and Moony contacting her shortly after she dreamed about him the first time? It just seemed like too much to be coincidence, and now this picture of her wearing a boy’s outfit…

                But she was a girl. She had breasts, though small, and lady parts, and all. She even got her period, for heaven’s sake—irregularly, but it did make its appearance. And she had _urges,_ of course, just like every other teenage girl!

                The only thing that she could even think was, perhaps, she’d had a brother. It didn’t make sense, either. Nobody mentioned him, if he existed—and if he had existed, if he was this Harry person, then her parents weren’t nearly old enough to have birthed a child seventeen years older than Hattie. Her parents had been very young, only twenty, when Hattie was born. If she had a brother he’d have to be her age or slightly older.

                It didn’t add up. She would have to ask Severus.

                In an attempt to relax, she pulled out the Marauder’s grimoire and opened it up to the start of their ‘fantastic journey’.

                It was written in a very back-and-forth manner between three boys. The first was Siri, whom Hattie could make the logical conclusion was Sirius Black (her _godfather…_ ). He was very silly, often straying off into tangents that had nothing to do with Animagi. The second was a boy called Pete, or sometimes Petey-boy, who didn’t have much to add. He didn’t seem super brilliant, unlike the other two, but he definitely wasn’t dumb either—he mentioned several findings he’d researched and thought they should include. The third was Jamie—obviously Hattie’s father. He was silly like Sirius, but driven, well-thought. He seemed smart, keeping the others on topic.

                Moony didn’t seem to be included in the first half of the project, apparently a surprise for him because of his “furry little secret” (whatever that meant).

                The first several pages were explanations and research the boys had done. It was before they’d acquired the book Hattie now had in her possession, so there were no references made, but they did include notes.

                It was well-documented back then that the start of any Animagi journey was to find your spirit animal. Before it was researched, many people assumed this was the form your Patronus took—this assumption was wrong. The Patronus was your protector, not your spirit animal. Thus, it could change form, something your Animagus could not do.

                There were several ways to find your spirit animal, including a seer-guided spiritual journey (which may or may not produce results), but the easiest way was uncontestably via potion.

                The boys (who had dubbed themselves the Marauders) had many qualms about beginning this potion. It was a lot of work, and even though they were positive that Sirius’ potions prowess was up to par, it was not something they really wanted to risk. Plus, should the potion go awry, they would have to start over…and the hardest part was, unfortunately, a month long.

                A month holding a mandrake leaf within your mouth.

                This discouraged Hattie. She was unsure how she’d go about acquiring a mandrake leaf—she hadn’t sought out the nearby wizarding community yet, admittedly mostly out of fear. Besides that, she wasn’t sure how she would keep one in her mouth for a month undetected. But she persevered. Becoming an Animagus without a teacher was illegal, so obviously the boys must’ve figured out some way to fly under the radar.

                Indeed, they had. One of the findings that Pete had researched was a way to form the mandrake leaf to fit the roof of your mouth. It was a spell normally used by clothiers, and it wasn’t usually used inside your mouth, but it seemed to work just fine. Adding the spell and a notice-me-not to the leaf would keep away questioning eyes.

                The potion was rather simple, and Hattie could find most of the ingredients in a grocery store. She would need a couple from an apothecary, but she would have to go to one for a mandrake leaf anyways. It only took a day and a half to brew, but it was time-consuming: she’d have to plan it right so that she could be undisturbed in her room for the majority of the time.

                The boys had no trouble brewing it. Supposedly, Siri was an O-level potioneer, and Jamie was not far behind. Their problems lay with the leaf.

                Pete couldn’t handle the feeling of it in his mouth and ended up removing it two weeks in, and had to start over. Siri’s came out by accident with a poorly-aimed _finite_ from Jamie after four days, and they nearly saved it, but Siri laughed and spat it out. Jamie was nearly discovered because he forgot his notice-me-not and “Minnie” got suspicious.

                In the end, the trio managed it—Jamie first, exactly one month after first placing the leaf. His spirit animal was a large, majestic buck. Siri wrote that they were thinking of nicknames already. His own revelation came a month later (due to the necessity of the full moon during the process), with the realization that his spirit animal was the Grim. A huge, hulking black dog, said to be an omen of death. And then, the same day as Siri, Pete wrote simply that his was a rat.

                This was where part one of the journey ended. Hattie closed the Marauder’s Grimoire and opened her own, starting to jot down notes. She must’ve fallen asleep midway through, because when she woke, it was morning.

                When Hattie got downstairs, having shrugged on a long, soft cotton dress (very easy to get over her cast), Bella was being interrogated by Charlie. He was very curious about her plans for Saturday, and apparently assumed that Bella just wasn’t asked.

                “It’s a girl’s choice dance,” Hattie said cheerfully as she sat down. With her school and Charlie’s work she felt like she hardly saw him anymore. After dinner one of them was always too tired to stick around and hang out.

                “And I didn’t want to ask anyone,” Bella reiterated, scooting her chair closer to Hattie’s. “Besides, we both know I don’t dance.”

                “Heck yeah she doesn’t,” Beau shouted, nearly falling down the stairs himself as he joined them. “I probably shouldn’t either, but I couldn’t say no.”

                Charlie himself just chuckled, obviously reassured that going to Seattle was the safer choice for Bella. Hattie smiled to herself as she thought about what he would say if he knew she was actually going to hang out with a boy.

                “Have a good day, kids,” Charlie called as he left. “Hattie, Dr. Cullen called—he wants to squeeze you in on Friday.”

                Her heart leapt as she realized this meant she’d be getting her cast off—and _before_ the dance!

                “Yes!” she squealed. Then, for good measure, “I just know I’ll get it off! It doesn’t even hurt anymore!”

                _Due to my own machinations…_ she thought mischievously.

                “Well don’t get your hopes up,” Charlie chuckled. “Doc said he thought it was still a little early, but he knew you were going to the dance…”

                “We’ll see,” Hattie smiled.

                The trio got up to leave as well. It was only seconds after Charlie left that they saw Edward’s Volvo pull in.

                “Again?” Beau asked playfully. “He could at least knock on the door like a gentleman.”

                “Oh, shut up,” Bella groaned, rolling her eyes.

                Throughout the day Hattie noticed Edward and Bella chatting animatedly. She seemed to have him completely enraptured—and vice versa. Hattie didn’t know what they were talking about (didn’t even ask), but she was happy for her sister.

                Even Beau had taken this opportunity to spend more time with Angela. It gave Hattie a lot of time to observe—her sister was absent, her best friend and brother were entertaining each other, and even Eric was leaving her alone due to the upcoming dance and his date of choice. She got a lot of homework done because she finished classwork early and didn’t have anyone to chat to.

                And, of course, the observing.

                One thing Hattie had noticed was the oddness of the Cullen family in general, but especially certain members. The older ones—Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper—were seniors, so she never saw them. But Alice was in Hattie and Beau’s art class. She was great, creating art akin to masterpieces. When Ms. Coal praised her, she said it was nothing…she wanted to be a fashion designer, after all, and fashion designers needed to be artistic.

                Edythe was in their English class and she tended to ignore everyone around her, but lately, her eyes kept wandering to Beau. Hattie noticed that this morning she was especially attentive to Hattie’s brother, her eyes wandering more often than not to his hunched-over form. Often, she would squint at him or draw her eyebrows together.

                Hattie wondered if Beau’s crush was reciprocated after all. And, if so, what that would mean for him and Angela—and Angela and Hattie’s friendship.

                Everyone had talents—Hattie herself was a great athlete, when she wasn’t indisposed, and she was particularly talented in defensive magics and healing magics—and everyone had crushes. But for some reason the Cullens’ perfectness was overwhelming, the way they brushed off praise and ignored feelings was a sort of modesty or stubbornness not often seen in high school students. Even Edward, who seemed to be the most down-to-earth member of the crew, was strange.

                In gym Hattie was certain she’d finally get a moment or two with her siblings, but alas Coach Clapp stole the able-bodied members of the class away as soon as they were out of the changing rooms. It was funny to watch Beau and Bella, teammates today, try and win a single game of badminton. The Coach spent most of the class shouting “tips” at them and berating them: “Good god, Swan! Not you, other Swan!”

                After gym she finally got Beau, but Bella was whisked away by Edward.

                “They sure are enamored,” Beau grunted as he started the engine. “Not sure how much I like him.”

                “What? What’s wrong with Edward?” Hattie demanded, squirming around in her seat so that she could watch Bella and Edward climb into the Volvo. As with yesterday, the rest of the family was squished in the back of an ostentatious orange convertible.

                “Nothing’s _wrong_ with him,” Beau responded reluctantly. “He’s just…”

                “Oh, come off it,” Hattie laughed. “Stop trying to play over-protective brother, that’s so ten years ago.”

                “Hey, just because this ‘strong, independent woman’ thing has finally taken hold, doesn’t mean I can’t be protective,” Beau retorted. “Bet you anything Charlie’s gonna have his gun out when she brings him home.”

                “He didn’t with Jake,” Hattie chirped.

                “He knows Jake,” Beau said. “He _likes_ Jake.”

                “He will like Edward. Edward is a gentleman.”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Beau grunted, rolling his eyes.

                Hattie had to laugh at him. He tried very hard to be a big manly-man, but he’d been raised by women all his life—even Charlie’s influence wasn’t enough to rough the edges of his softness. It was a good thing. He suited gentleness, in a way Hattie wasn’t sure he’d suit overpowering masculinity.

                At home they settled in the kitchen to do their homework. Hattie puttered around the cupboards and fridge, beginning to think about dinner preparations, and thought to herself that they may need to go grocery shopping soon. Beau quizzed her as she sloppily began preparing food, asking her questions about their current English assignment— _Their Eyes Were Watching God._

The clock was striking six thirty, the sun disappearing beyond the horizon, when Hattie heard a new car approach. She headed to the window, curious: she knew the sound of Charlie’s cruiser, and whoever had just pulled in definitely was not him.

                “Visitors?” Beau wondered, heading toward the window. He twitched the shades back. “I don’t recognize the car. You?”

                “Mm, I don’t either,” Hattie responded. They stood in the window together, watching Bella get out of the Volvo. After a few moments, Edward squealed out of the driveway, gravel popping beneath his tires. “Well _someone’s_ in a rush.”

                Bella was approaching the driver’s side of the new vehicle, now. The window rolled down, and through the rain it was hard to tell what was happening—then Charlie’s cruiser swung around the corner, headlights illuminating the scene. It was _Jacob_ in the passenger seat. He’d finally gotten a car up and running and had finally made good on his promise to come to Forks.

                Hattie bounced excitedly in place, a thrill of pleasure jolting through her body.

                “Looks like _your_ boyfriend came to pay a visit too,” teased Beau, grinning widely at her. Hattie was already dashing toward the door.

                “He’s not my boyfriend!” she squealed, throwing the door open and darting out into the rain. Her bare feet splashed on the pavement and the rain was icy down her neck. She was so excited to see him, she didn’t even pause to throw on a jacket.

                “Hattie!” Jacob’s startled laughter was booming, causing the other three to glance up. Charlie and Jacob were in the midst of getting Billy into his wheelchair, but Jacob paused to catch Hattie. “What are you doing? You’re gonna catch a cold!”

                “I missed you!” Hattie laughed, catapulting herself at him. She danced a little in place as he hugged her, not letting either foot touch the ground for too long. “It’s cold out here!”

                “Y’know, most civilized beings put shoes on before they bolt out the door,” Charlie grunted, chuckling. “Get on inside now, Hattie, Bells. Jake and I can handle this from here.”

                Bella tore her eyes from Billy, who Hattie noticed was staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes were wide, a little horrified—Hattie wondered what had happened before she came out. Bella tilted her head toward the house, looking confused and worried herself, and the sisters marched side-by-side toward the door. Beau was there, waiting with a stack of towels, which Hattie and Bella took advantage of.

                Hattie wrapped herself in one, wiping her bare feet on the welcome rug to dry them a little. Bella was ruffling one through her hair, laying her soggy bookbag on a kitchen chair.

                “What was that all about?” Hattie asked, motioning toward the door with her head. “Billy seemed spooked.”

                Bella shrugged half-heartedly. “Edward gave me a ride home from school. I don’t know if he likes the Cullens.”

                Hattie scrunched her eyebrows up. “Really? Weird. He seemed almost scared.”

                The boys were coming in through the door. Hattie turned, still wrapped in her towel, as Jacob came through. He grinned roguishly at her, his too-white teeth showing between parted lips—and then he proceeded to shake his wet hair in her direction.

                “Jacob!” Hattie yelped, pulling her towel closed around her face. “Rude!”

                His hands parted the towel and Hattie blinked up at him. Suddenly it was as if they were the only two people in the universe—him, his t-shirt clinging a little to his body, towering over her slighter form. They were so close together she could lean her head forward and rest it against his shoulder, but the way he was holding her towel open was almost cupping her cheeks.

                “Nice to see you,” he murmured gently, his warm breath brushing across her face. It smelled like peppermint gum, and vanilla. Hattie didn’t think he smoked, but he even smelled like the vaguest hint of tobacco. It was a pleasant scent, soothing, and his very presence—the touch of his thumb over her cheekbone, the proximity of his body to hers—eased the tension in her shoulders.

                She got caught up in him. Just like she always did when he was around. It didn’t matter that she could hear her siblings putting dinner in the oven, or Billy and Charlie clattering in the front door. The Minister himself could have been speaking to her and she wouldn’t care, not entwined with Jacob the way she was.

                “You got your car running,” Hattie responded, slightly breathlessly. His grin lifted one cheek slightly higher than the other, squinting the eye closed a little. It was endearing to her, the way it made his eyes glint.

                “Nah, we borrowed this one—the Rabbit’s still missing parts. Billy wanted to watch the game.”

                “And Jacob was anxious to see Hattie again,” called Billy’s deep tenor from the background. Hattie was keen to ignore it, but Jacob pulled away, rolling his eyes.

                “Thanks, dad.”

                “You’re doin’ good with them, Charlie,” Billy said, ignoring his son’s voice. Hattie’s eyes were still on Jacob, searching the plane between his shoulder-blades now. It was crazy how easy it was to lose herself in his presence. “All their books out on the kitchen table. They could teach my kid a thing or two.”

                “Yep, I’ve gotta studious crew,” Charlie chuckled. “C’mon, let’s head into the living room.”

                Billy and Charlie went through to the living room and Hattie heard the TV kick on as they began bickering between themselves. Hattie checked dinner (some simple hot sandwiches), trying not to look at Jacob.

                Bella had said she felt electricity when she was with Edward, sparks, like a burning warmth where he touched her. Hattie had been somewhat wistful, then, because she had never felt that—but now she realized she didn’t need sparks to _know._ It was obvious in the way she could drown in Jacob’s eyes, get lost in the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. It felt like standing in the eye of a hurricane—everything around you was chaos, but you were eerily, indescribably calm.

                When Jacob was there, her worries melted away. They simply didn’t matter.

                It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.

                She didn’t know much about romance, or relationships, or love. But she knew that being near him felt like being whole.

                And that spoke for itself, right?

                He leaned against the counter next to her, his arm brushing hers. There were no magical sparks, but the touch sent soothing shivers down her spine. She smiled to herself and pressed a little further against him.

                Bella and Beau were discussing cars with Jacob. Hattie forced herself to tune in once she’d spun the sandwiches in the oven, not wanting to seem too weird.

                “Yeah, the truck’s fine,” Beau was saying. “We take it to school every day. Bella just got a ride home with a… _friend_ today.”

                “It was a nice ride,” agreed Jacob, sounding admiring. “I didn’t recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here.”

                Bella seemed to be avoiding responding. Hattie glanced at her sister curiously—she was staring intensely at the floor. Was she…embarrassed to be seen with Edward? That didn’t seem right. Was she embarrassed to be caught, perhaps? Afraid Jacob would tell Charlie?

                Beau obviously didn’t interpret his twin’s silence for anything other than awkwardness, almost immediately answering Jacob. “That was Edward Cullen. Doesn’t surprise me you didn’t recognize him, the Cullens really keep to themselves.”

                Hattie and Bella stared at Beau, but he was oblivious.

                Jacob startled them all by laughing. Hattie glanced up at the sound, which sent pleasant bubbles through her belly—she liked when he was happy. But he seemed a little bit embarrassed, strangely.

                “Guess that explains it, then. I wondered why my dad was acting so strange.”

                Bella reluctantly responded. “That’s right,” she said, sounding hollow. “He doesn’t like the Cullens.”

                “Superstitious old man,” Jacob muttered, wrapping his arm around Hattie. “Did Bella tell you the stories I told her?”

                “About the Quileute legends, with the wolves?” Hattie confirmed. Bella looked like she wanted to interrupt, but didn’t know how.

                “Yeah. Technically we’re not supposed to share them with outsiders,” Jacob winked. “You guys won’t rat me out, will you?”

                Hattie was still reeling a little—unsure why Billy disliked the Cullens or what that had to do with the Quileute legends Jacob had told Bella. She didn’t have a chance to ask for an explanation though, because Bella was already agreeing they wouldn’t tell anyone.

                Odd.

                She told herself it was probably to do with the fact that the Cullens were hunters—or so she assumed, anyways. They went camping and hiking an awful lot and it wouldn’t be a huge leap to assume they hunted, too. Perhaps they’d been caught hunting wolves on Quileute lands, and that’s why Billy didn’t like them. This theory made a lot of sense to her, so she didn’t push it.

                After dinner, which Jacob didn’t participate in (“We ate right before we came,” he explained), Bella announced she was going to retire to the lofts.

                “Oh yeah,” Jacob nodded. “I forgot, Charlie and some of the boys redid the garage. Can I come see it?”

                “Oh—I don’t know—” Bella said, haltingly.

                “That would be great!” Hattie interrupted, bouncing a little. “It’s lovely!”

                Bella shot her a scathing look, but Hattie brushed it off. Whatever awkwardness Bella imagined between her and Jacob was none of Hattie’s concern. She went to tell Charlie that they were going to take Jacob to the garage, but he looked concerned.

                “Just you two?” he grunted, frowning heavily at Jacob, in the doorway behind her.

                “No, Bella’s coming too,” Hattie explained, confused.

                “And Beau?” Charlie prompted.

                “Why would Beau…?” Hattie asked. Her eyebrows drew together before she suddenly realized what he was hinting at. “Uncle Charlie! It’s not like that!”

                “Well when you say you’re taking a boy to your room—”

                “ _Uncle Charlie!_ ”

                “We’ll bring Beau,” Jacob interrupted, sounding amused.

                “Don’t stay out there too long, the game’s almost over and I’m tired,” Billy called.

                Hattie was rolling her eyes all the way into the kitchen, where Jacob informed Beau he’d be chaperoning.

The four of them headed out into the night, rushing to get out of the drizzling rain. They gave Jacob a small tour of the loft. There wasn’t much to show him, but he seemed impressed anyways. Apparently, the garage hadn’t been much to look at before Charlie and “the boys” remodeled it.

                “This is Bella’s room, that one’s mine,” Hattie explained. Bella was disappearing into her own room as Hattie opened her door. Both boys followed her in.

                It was strange having them in her room. The only ones who’d been in here were Bella and herself—Beau didn’t normally come up, there wasn’t much need for him to. Charlie had apparently checked on them a couple of times, mostly the week following the accident, but even then, Hattie had spent a few days in the house before she was recovered enough to come back to the loft.

                Now she felt sort of self-conscious about the state of her room. It was spic and span—not like a normal teenager’s room. The bed was made precisely, even though she would immediately shove the blankets and pillows into a nest-like formation upon going to bed. Her books were lined up, dust-free, on her shelves. All her laundry was hanging in the closet just so, and the laundry basket was empty. The carpet was freshly vacuumed. Any decorations Hattie had were minimal and tidy.

                “Interesting,” Jacob said after a moment of looking around. “I didn’t peg you as one of those meticulous cleaners.”

                “I told you I was a neat freak,” Hattie murmured bashfully.

                “Everyone says that,” Jacob laughed. “Most people aren’t actually.”

                “I am.”

                She wondered what he garnered from looking at her room. It felt very…personal. Having him, the object of her affections, standing in the room where she spent the majority of her alone time—where she slept, changed, lounged, learned. Where she dreamt…sometimes about him. Hattie wondered what he saw when he glanced at every corner of the room. What did ‘interesting’ mean?

                Beau didn’t really enter the room, just stood at the doorway. Clearly, he took his job as chaperone very seriously.

                Perhaps she needed a chaperone. She was liable to get lost in Jacob’s presence, after all.

                Jacob just stood there in the middle of the room, though, looking around. His hands were in his pockets and he seemed a little out of place. Finally, he turned to her with that roguish little grin.

                “Can I see your dress for Saturday?”

                The question came from out of nowhere, but it warmed Hattie a little. She suddenly realized that it was Thursday night—less than forty-eight hours until the dance. She wondered if a school dance could be considered a first date.

                Either way, she was elated.

                “Isn’t that bad luck?” Hattie teased.

                “I think that’s just weddings,” Jacob disagreed. He pursed his lips at her. “You’re not gonna show me, are you?”

                “Nah,” Hattie laughed. “Let’s not risk it, just in case. Let it be a surprise.”

                “I like surprises,” Jacob murmured, suddenly serious. His eyes sparkled with an intense emotion Hattie couldn’t identify. “I’m going to pick you up, on Saturday. Okay?”

                “Yeah,” Hattie nodded, heart fluttering in her chest. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

                “I think it’s time to go,” Beau said quietly, seeming not to want to interrupt. “I just saw Charlie and Billy come out of the house.”

                Hattie sighed. “Alright…we’re coming.”

                Beau left them standing there, obviously trusting they wouldn’t try anything sneaky knowing that Billy was waiting on them. When she turned back around to face Jacob again, he was much closer than before—they were almost touching.

                “I’m glad I got to come and see you,” Jacob said softly. He smiled down at her. “I can’t wait for the dance.”

                “I can’t either,” Hattie responded, staring at him. She was forcing herself not to become mesmerized. “I’ve missed you.”

                “We’ve both been busy,” Jacob muttered regretfully. “I’ll see you soon, Hattie. Alright?”

                “Yeah…I’ll see you soon.”

                He didn’t touch her as he walked carefully around to the door, glancing over his shoulder. Hattie followed him out, wishing she’d had more alone time with him. She never got to actually _talk_ to him, they just begroaned their mutual fate of missing each other. What a waste of time.

                She resigned herself to Saturday, wishing—hoping—that would be the night that their relationship finally went somewhere.

                He was at the top of the stairs when she caught up to him, just standing there. When he heard her approach, he turned slowly, looking torn.

                “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jacob chuckled giddily, scratching the back of his neck. “You like me, right, Hattie? I mean, you must—you asked me to the dance…”

                “I like you,” Hattie assured quickly, her cheeks heating up. “A lot.”

                “I like you a lot, too,” he agreed. “You’re beautiful, and cheerful, and sweet and kind, and you have so many great qualities it probably shouldn’t be legal. Anyone would be blind not to see it. And I want to get to know you better, like a lot better.”

                “Jacob?” Hattie asked unsurely, blinking at him. Her chest was tight with emotion, pleasure bubbling in her tummy.

                “Everyone keeps interrupting and I just thought, it’s not the right time, you know? So I thought maybe Saturday—but why not now?”

                “Jacob?” Hattie repeated, confused now.

                But then he was leaning forward, quick as a fox, to capture her lips in a kiss. Their first kiss. Hattie’s first kiss, period. He bent forward a little to make up for the height difference, his hand on the back of her neck. She was shocked, her hands in the air before them, unsure where to put them.

                It wasn’t like how she could’ve imagined it, here in the darkened stairwell. His lips were warm and smooth against hers and he tasted exactly how he smelled, like peppermint and vanilla and a hint of tobacco. He did most of the work, the slant of his lips across hers moving slowly and coaxing her into responding. She was sloppy, inexperienced, but it was _fun._ There was, apparently, a reason that people liked kissing: the act in itself wasn’t particularly pleasurable in the literal sense of the word, but it was _pleasant,_ intimate, and the feelings it alit in her body were certainly of the pleasurable kind.

                Hattie liked it a lot. She liked the way that his thumb stroked across her neck, the jolts of pleasure it sent like white-hot prickers into the pit of her stomach. She liked how his other hand came to rest on her hip, almost holding her in position—she liked how he was a little domineering, but not overbearing. Her hands came to rest on his chest, fisting a little in his shirt, but the kiss was over all too soon. He pulled away with one last little peck, breathing heavily.

                “I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand over his face. “Wow.”

                “Don’t be sorry,” Hattie murmured, wide-eyed. “That was…”

                “Wow,” Jacob repeated, letting the hand resting on her neck fall to her other hip.

                “Yeah,” Hattie agreed, huddling closer to him. She rested against his chest and let him hold her, not wanting the moment to end. “That was perfect, Jacob.”

                “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you on that fishing boat,” Jacob reminisced. “Bundled up like a little marshmallow in your winter clothes.”

                “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since Christmas,” Hattie admitted.

                “I could’ve knocked Seth’s stupid grin off his face that day,” Jacob grumbled. “I didn’t want him to look at you—you looked so perfect.”

                “My clothes didn’t fit me,” Hattie protested. Jacob’s shoulders shook a little bit and she looked up to see him laughing, but he didn’t respond.

                Finally, after another long moment, he sighed. “I should really go, Hattie. Before they come looking for us.”

                “I know…” she murmured.

                “Goodnight, Hattie,” Jacob told her, those intense dark eyes staring into her soul.

                “Goodnight, Jacob.”

                She watched him leave from the window in the hallway. Charlie and Billy had been chatting long enough that they didn’t realize anything was amiss, but she could see Beau staring at Jacob’s back as he passed, clearly knowing something had happened. Her brother didn’t say anything, though, just waved goodbye and retreated into the house.

                Hattie couldn’t help but feel like he’d given them a second alone on purpose.

                He was a good brother.

                She retreated into her room, flopping onto her bed and sighing happily. The kiss was everything she’d dreamed of and more.

                Hattie was just kicking off her shoes when her phone dinged.

**Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**_//Mrs. Cullen’s name has been changed to Frizzabella_ **

**_//Hattie-Dearest’s name has been changed to Baby Bird_ **

**Frizzabella: beau what r u doing**

**Baby Bird: why am i a bird**

**A baby bird at that**

**_//Bozo’s name has been changed to The Boy_ **

**Frizzabella: there if we have to have stupid names so do u**

**The Boy: seriously**

**Baby Bird: im going to bed**

**The Boy: did jakey boy kiss u hattie?**

**Hattie?**

**did u fall asleep already**

**Frizzabella: you cant just ask something like that beau!**

**besides you were chaperoning remember**

**The Boy: i left and they were right behind me but it took them a long time**

**and jake looked way too happy when he came down**

**Frizzabella: …**

**hattie?**

**Baby Bird: i hate you both and im going to sleep goodbye**

                So maybe Beau wasn’t that great of a brother after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, I didn't know there was an actual process to becoming an Animagi when I originally wrote this last year. Later chapters take the official way into account (which is annoying because I wanted the Animagi transformation to be REALLY EASY for Hattie as a testament to how powerful a wizard can be when they're taught without a wand, but the Animagi transformation like...doesn't use any magic xD so I had to change things) but the explanations in this chapter and maybe in the next couple chapters are a little weird because of it. Sorry~! 
> 
> So yeah Hattie and Jakey-boy finally get up to a lil somethin' somethin'. Jacob's pretty scarce in the Twilight arc of things so it's weird but hey we'll go with it.
> 
> Also I like really just want to write for HP right now. But this story is giving me a heck of a time. I am still stuck on 41 and I might just have to deal with it being a crappy chapter and push through it because I don't know what else to do haha. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and thank you to my commenters :) I really appreciate it. It makes me happy when I see someone has commented!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Follows the timeline of Twilight: 12  
> Kind of a weird chapter I don't really like that much. But eh. :) next chapter is better.

**21.**

_“Are you ready?" Klaus asked finally._

_"No," Sunny answered._

_"Me neither," Violet said, "but if we wait until we're ready we'll be waiting for the rest of our lives, Let's go.” ―[ Lemony Snicket](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/36746.Lemony_Snicket)_

_══════_

                Friday sped by haphazardly. Beau and Hattie drove to school separately from Bella as had become normal, listening to some foreign group Beau liked. It was pretty good, but not understanding the words took some of the enjoyment out of it for Hattie.

                Dr. Cullen was squeezing Hattie in for a last-minute X-Ray after lunch, so Charlie was going to come pick her up. Unfortunately this meant she was going to miss her afternoon classes—gym wasn’t an issue, but she’d have work to make up for biology. The office gave her a note to pass along to Mr. Banner to collect her work.

                Honestly the idea of falling behind wasn’t that big of a deal to Hattie. She did pretty alright in school, mostly because that was all she’d done for so long. She’d spent years perfecting her learning techniques, spending hours in the study of Severus’ home whilst other children played games or learned hobbies. She knew how to learn, and by virtue of that, she did well in school. But Hattie held no pretenses for her future in the muggle world.

                There was no real reason for her to do well in school. Either she and her network would defeat the regime as she grew older—allowing her to rebuild the wizarding world—or she would die trying. That was always her plan. Her self-imposed fate. Severus might’ve assumed that coming here was safer for Hattie, but every moment she spent in Forks was another reminder of why she desperately wanted to help her people.

                All of the normal, unburdened people. Her people had once been that way. They’d lived lives carefree of any darkness, they’d held jobs in fantastic fields not one of her schoolmates could begin to imagine. They raised families—grew gardens full of magical crops—waved their wands on a whim—flew broomsticks. They lived.

                Hattie knew that once she achieved her goal, her reason for coming here…to learn the art of animagi…she would go home. She and her friends would tear down the regime piece by piece and maybe, someday, she could come back.

                It hurt her to think about leaving all the people she’d come to know and love: her siblings, Charlie, the Blacks. They’d never understand, even if she could explain it to them. Some days she didn’t understand it herself. It was a patriotism ingrained in her very soul, the yearning for that _something_ inside her core that drove her each and every day. There was something more meant for wizard kind, something incredible and great—Hattie had a hard time believing this was meant to be the beginning of the end.

                Maybe it was best not to create attachments here, in Forks. But how could she not? Beau and Bella and Charlie and Jacob, each of them were something to her that she’d never had before. A relationship she’d always craved for as long as she could remember. Each mannerism—each twitch of a mustache, each too-white smile, each warm embrace—endeared them to her. And, somehow, she knew that when she left, she wouldn’t be the only one hurting.

                The day passed by in a blur, to be honest. As with most days now, she was mostly left to her own devices. Bella and Edward were in constant deep conversation whenever they were within arms’ reach. Beau and Angela gravitated toward each other, too, and—more often than not—their coupling drew Edythe Cullen’s furious, possibly envious, glares. Even Eric left Hattie alone now, caught up in McKayla Newton.

                It was a relief to enter the cafeteria, to not be expected to pay attention to anything. She picked at her food mechanically, only half-listening to the conversation going on around her. It was mindless chatter for the most part. Beau and Angela made awkward, giddy conversation opposite Hattie. She couldn’t tell you what they were talking about—the cadence of their voices faded into the background while she pondered her lunch.

                Hattie had started writing a letter to Moony during English class. For the most part she didn’t know what to say to him, except _thank you, thank you so much,_ but in it she inquired about Sirius Black and asked him to tell her more about himself and his schooldays. She also thought to ask about Seattle, and if he knew where the wizarding community was. It wouldn’t be long before she could acquire a new car—she and Bella had been perusing classifieds—and make a trip out.

                This in itself was a thrilling, terrifying notion. Hattie had, of course, never been amongst a large group of wizards before. The largest was at Cecelia’s celebration. The idea that she would be walking into a group that might be three times that size, or more, was bizarre. Hattie could let her magic free and nobody would think twice. Nobody here feared the regime in the way that wizarding Britain did.

                Nobody here cared to help fight the regime, either.

                Hattie was excited for this opportunity. She knew she’d go to bookstores and the apothecary and, of course, inquire about animagi. She wanted to visit Gringotts America, where they could pull out wizarding money from her rumored excessive accounts. Her parents had exchanged a huge sum of galleons for muggle money years ago, and had been living off that when they died, but Severus was under the impression Hattie had even more than that locked away.

                Maybe one day she could visit the Diagon Alley branch of Gringotts, when all was said and done. Severus said the Order had already taken it back, after all.

                This made her worry about Severus’ mission: had they already begun infiltrating the Ministry? Was he a part of the mission, or was he on the sidelines, focusing on recruiting? It was too much to worry about right now, but she wondered nonetheless.

                It was nearing the end of lunchtime when Hattie decided it was time to cut in on Edward and Bella’s conversation to pass along the note for Mr. Banner. She approached their table with some trepidation, feeling weirdly intrusive. They’d been so entwined within themselves that it felt like encroaching upon sacred territory. Nevertheless, Hattie steeled her nerve and walked over.

                As she neared, Alice Cullen—the smallest and friendliest of the bunch—was walking away, obviously having rendezvoused with them herself. She was joined by Edythe, only a little taller than Alice (who was exactly the same height as Hattie, the girl noted). They were talking in quiet whispers, and both eyed Hattie curiously as she passed. It was not an unfriendly stare, it was more like they didn’t know what to make of her.

                It was obvious that Edward and Bella were saying their goodbyes as Hattie came upon the table. It made interrupting even more embarrassing and she loomed off to the side, trying to discretely give them their privacy. However, both looked up at her as soon as she came into their view. Hattie sighed and dropped down next to Bella.

                “I’m getting ready to go,” Hattie murmured, shooting Edward what she hoped was an apologetic look. “I just wanted to give you this note for Mr. Banner.”

                Bella took the pink slip from her sister, nodding seriously. “Sounds good. I’ll see you at home.”

                “See you!” Hattie called, already getting up to walk away. Bella’s voice had her turning again.

                “Hey—good luck! I’m rooting for you! No more cast!”

                Hattie waved as she left, a new pep in her step. Of course there would be no more cast—soon she would be able to do everything she used to be able to do. Drive, participate in gym, dress herself without magic, _do her hair._ Even things she hadn’t had much of a chance to do before the accident, like yoga or dance. Maybe her art would even improve.

                (Who was she kidding? Even before the accident, she was awful at it.)

                She exited the building and went to wait outside, enjoying the brisk air. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t rainy either—something of a blessing in Forks. Charlie was supposed to pick her up in front of the office building, so Hattie began to mosey over.

                Across the parking lot she noted Edward, Edythe, and Alice loading into the Volvo. Edward and Edythe were both laughing, nudging each other’s shoulders back and forth. It was very obvious in the moment that they were twins. They had very similar features and mannerisms. Both of them had that mystifying bronze hair, Edythe’s styled carefully and Edward’s messy in a precise, practiced way. They had the same jaw line, somehow strong and delicate at the same time. Even the heavy brow—Edythe’s eyebrows were groomed perfectly, and it was obvious they were thick, but not in a bad way. It suited her.

                Honestly, the biggest difference between them was size. Edward must’ve been over six foot—perhaps 6’2”. Edythe, on the other hand, had a few inches on Hattie’s height—she must’ve been about 5’3”, slightly smaller than Bella but still somehow taller than Alice. Edythe’s features were all small, petite, like a delicate fairy. Edward’s were large and rough.

As they climbed into the car, Alice was shaking her head at whatever her siblings were making a scene about. It reminded Hattie of herself, Bella, and Beau.

                For some reason Alice looked up and, shockingly, waved. Hattie paused. They’d shared a class now for three months and this was the first time Alice Cullen had acknowledged her at all. It was surprising, and it took Hattie a moment to wave back. Then Edward was waving, too, a calculating look on his face.

                Charlie pulled up then. Hattie was still watching the Cullens load into Edward’s SUV when she slid into Charlie’s cruiser, curious about them. They had always rubbed her the wrong way; the wild, uncontrollable aura they exuded gave her goosebumps. For them to suddenly start being friendly…

                It must be because of Bella.

                “Friends of yours?” Charlie asked happily as she slammed the door. Hattie hummed noncommittally.

                “Sort of, though I’d say they’re more friends of Bella’s.”

                “Huh,” Charlie grunted. They began their trek to the hospital, not discussing the issue further.

                As they pulled into the parking lot Charlie made one of his ‘I’m trying to start a conversation but I don’t know how’ sounds, a musing sort of grunt. Hattie tuned into his uncomfortable face, noting how his mustache twitched with the movements his mouth was making.

                “Uncle Charlie?”

                Bella and Beau swore their dad wasn’t a big talker, or a touchy-feely sort of man. Hattie didn’t have much experience with him, only these last several months, but she disagreed. He was just bashful. He was sort of an anxious man—not in all aspects, he just was careful in the way he acted. Maybe guarded. Perhaps he’d always been this way, or perhaps Renee had made him into this.

                Either way, he didn’t know how to act around them sometimes. All parents felt that way about their teenagers, but most parents had the gift of learning with their child as they grew. Charlie became the sole guardian of three teens overnight, and was suddenly expected to know how to deal with everything that came with that.

                Everything including, apparently, hormones.

                “I worry about you Hattie,” Charlie grunted finally, sounding hesitant. “Y’know, the boys all say you’re a good girl, you’re smart, an’ I believe that. But when you came to me you were so…lost. ‘N now, falling in with Jacob…”

                “You like Jacob,” Hattie noted.

                “I do,” agreed Charlie after a moment. “I just…want you to be careful with your emotions. Jacob’s a good kid, but you’re more important right now. With everything you’ve gone through these last coupla months...I just want you to take it easy.”

                Hattie felt a little attacked. Sure, she’d been pretty off the rails when she came to Charlie—she could hardly keep her emotions in check. It was a combination of leaving everything behind and also finally hitting puberty fully. She was a late bloomer, her aunt always said. When she arrived at Charlie’s she really hadn’t even needed to wear a bra, and now she was filled out top and bottom. Not huge, of course—not like Bella, who was curvy, a nice hourglass with a fair amount of breast and bum. Hattie was, in all ways, petite.

                But still, puberty and homesickness aside, Charlie had no right to dictate what she was or was not ready for. In the past this would’ve made her warm, knowing he was trying to look out for her; now she just assumed he felt uncomfortable with the idea of her being a woman.

                “Uncle Charlie, no offense, but I do not think you should be giving me relationship advice.” She said, carefully. “I am not jumping into anything I’m not ready for.”

                “If you’re sure…” Charlie sighed. “I just worry.”

                “You can worry,” Hattie said, stepping out of the car. “But you also have to accept it.”

                The hospital was pretty slow today, which was unsurprising. The nurse had barely finished signing Hattie in when Dr. Cullen showed up to bring her back. Charlie must’ve been in a bad mood because, though he loved “the doc,” he attempted to pick a fight.

                “Say, doctor, saw your kids leavin’ the school after lunch,” Charlie stated, falling into his ‘cop pose’, legs apart, arms crossed.

                The doctor was good, though. He hummed, looking up from Hattie’s chart. “Edythe, Edward, and Alice?” he guessed.

                Charlie floundered for a moment, obviously not knowing the difference between the Cullen children. Hattie confirmed after a moment that yes, those were the three who left, feeling a little embarrassed.

                “Edythe and Alice have some dental work that needed to be done,” Dr. Cullen said, after Hattie confirmed. “Edward was driving them.”

                This was an unbelievable admission: anyone who had been anywhere near the Cullens knew they had impeccable teeth. However, Charlie seemed to buy it, deflating a little bit.

                Hattie’s cast was cut off for the X-Ray with little fuss. It felt amazing to have it off. She’d gotten so used to the weight that it was euphoric to suddenly be unburdened. She wanted nothing more but to flex her elbow, aching to stretch the stiff joint, but Dr. Cullen warned her against moving around until he saw the X-Ray.

                It was a test of willpower: knowing that her elbow was healed, knowing that she had the power to move it now that she was free of the cast, yet choosing not to. The X-Ray, and then waiting for Dr. Cullen to receive the X-Ray, was the longest fifteen minute wait of her life.

                It was also sort of nerve-wracking. Would he be able to tell the break was healed in an unnatural fashion? Would he be suspicious? Would he even mention it?

                But luck was on her side. When he came back holding the X-Ray, he was smiling.

                “Looks like we’re in the all clear, Ms. Potter,” he chuckled. “I can barely tell there was a break in the first place. Let’s stretch you out and make sure there’s no movement issues.”

                He took her arm in his cold hands and carefully unbent it. It was definitely stiff, but there was no soreness; it just felt _heavenly,_ like she’d been sitting in one position for too long and was finally stretching her legs. It was only through sheer force of will that Hattie refrained from groaning in pleasure.

                “It might be stiff for a little while,” Dr. Cullen was explaining. “Make sure not to baby it too much, but I wouldn’t do any heavy lifting with it for a couple of days. If you start experiencing any pain in it, be sure to come back in. Other than that, you should be good to go.”

                Outside the hospital, Hattie made Charlie take a picture of her doing a double thumbs-up to send to Beau and Bella.

                **Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**Baby Bird: look guys, two arms!!!**

**Frizzabella: way to go hattie!**

**The Boy: and a solid a+ to your bodys healing capabilities**

**isnt the human body amazing???**

**Baby Bird: are u making fun of me beau**

**The Boy: NEVER**

**SO about that kiss**

**_//The Boy has been removed from the group_ **

**Frizzabella: LMAO**

**Baby Bird: so anyways charlie tried to give me relationship advice**

**he doesnt like that im ‘falling in’ with Jacob**

**Frizzabella: seriously?**

**he loves Jacob**

**Baby Bird: THAT’S WHAT I SAID**

**_//Beau Swan joined the group_ **

**_//Beau Swan’s name has been changed to Beauregard_ **

**Beauregard: real funny guys**

**also wait till he finds out about his baby bells and EC**

**Frizzabella: ugh dont remind me**

**also sometimes i think he likes hattie more than he likes me anyways**

**Beauregard: true**

**Baby Bird: i dont think that’s true at all!!!**

**Frizzabella: he worships the ground you walk on**

**Baby Bird: maybe when you tell him youre with EC hell lay off me**

**Beauregard: yeah take one for the team bells!**

**Baby Bird: or at least tell him youre not going to seattle tomorrow**

**Beauregard: youre not going to seattle tomorrow?!?!**

**Baby Bird: oops**

**Frizzabella: thanks hattie (eyeroll) well see**

—x—

                After Hattie’s little mishap, Bella decided to let everyone in on her big secret: she wasn’t going to Seattle at all. During lunch on Wednesday, Edward had convinced her to do something with him instead. Of course, Bella still didn’t want Charlie to know she’d be with Edward, so she still had to lie.

                During dinner, she broached the subject. Charlie seemed pleasantly agreeable about it—happy, even—but Hattie saw right through the façade. After dinner, and after Hattie had used her newly-freed arm to celebrate by washing dishes, Bella was accosted in the laundry room.

                She was midway through folding clothes (Beau’s, apparently, if the cactus boxers were anything to go by) when Hattie barged in. It was the sort of task that only kept your hands busy—it wasn’t particularly taxing on the brain, and so hers was free to run wild. She tried to imagine what tomorrow would be like, fluctuating between anticipation so intense it was nearly painful and an insidious fear that picked at her resolve. She had to keep reminding herself that she’d made her choice, and she wasn’t going back on it.

                Therefore it was almost a relief when Hattie came in, shutting the door behind her so gently that even the latch didn’t click. The laundry room wasn’t very large, and with two people in it and the dryer running Bella was already beginning to feel overheated. Her sister had her arms crossed (looking pleased that she could make that motion), staring at her with raised brows.

                “What?” Bella asked self-consciously, trying to continue loading the washer nonchalantly. Her hands were fumbling in the laundry, though, and she hoped Hattie couldn’t tell.

                “So you are really not going to tell Charlie you’re staying with Edward tomorrow,” Hattie said calmly.

                “Nope,” Bella agreed.

                Hattie had a calculating look on her face, searching Bella’s eyes. It was obvious her sister was putting two and two together—nobody had ever accused Hattie of being stupid.

                “You are going to go out with him,” Hattie realized. “He convinced you to…go on a date, or something?”

                Bella flushed, pleased at the words. She wasn’t sure it was necessarily a date, but she liked that Hattie assumed it was. It meant Hattie thought that Edward had to _convince_ her to date him…like he wasn’t good enough for her, or something.

                It was a nice change, given she always thought she wasn’t good enough for him.

                “I guess so,” Bella laughed, a little giddy.

                “I am happy for you,” Hattie smiled. “Where are you going?”

                This was something Bella didn’t really know the answer of. She knew that Edward wanted her to tell her family where she would be tomorrow—with him, alone. He was worried that if nobody knew, he wouldn’t have any incentive to bring her back.

                Bella didn’t think he gave himself enough credit. She thought of the note in her pocket, the one she’d found in her backpack after school. “ _Be Safe.”_ Clearly he wasn’t going to harm her. But perhaps he’d be happier, more at ease, knowing she’d told Hattie at least.

                “I’m not really sure,” Bella said carefully. “He just said we’d spend Saturday together. He wants to take me someplace, I think it’s a surprise.”

                “Romantic,” Hattie swooned playfully. “I can’t wait to hear about it. Why aren’t you telling Charlie?”

                Bella shrugged helplessly. “I’m worried he won’t like it. Plus, Edward and I…I don’t know, it’s just not the right time to tell him, you know?”

                Hattie nodded. “I get it. He got weird on me about Jacob today. Said he did not like me ‘falling in’ with Jacob since I have ‘been through so much the last couple of months.’”

                “He tries,” Bella muttered, no feeling behind the words. Trying and failing sometimes went hand in hand, after all.

                Hattie helped Bella sort the laundry in silence, clearly happy to have the use of both arms back. Even though there hadn’t been much sun, there was a miniscule difference in the shades between her arms—probably not noticeable unless you were staring. When they were finished with their task, Bella led the way out of the steamy laundry room.

                It was as they were crossing the little path to the garage that Bella was struck with a thought.

                “Hey! You have your cast off now!” she half-shouted in realization. “That means you can drive!”

                Hattie paused where she was unlocking the loft, blinking. “Yeah, I’ve bookmarked a couple cars I want to look at. They are here in town, so I think I will try to see some on Sunday. Or maybe I’ll go up to the dealership.”

                “How exciting!” Bella cheered genuinely. She knew that Hattie didn’t love relying on Beau or Bella for rides everywhere. Sure, they always carpooled to school, but Hattie didn’t really get to leave the house on the weekends or after school because she couldn’t drive and she didn’t want to bother them for a ride. It’d be another freedom when Hattie got a new car.

                “I guess it is,” Hattie agreed with a tiny smile, leading the way up the stairs. They parted ways in the hall after kicking off their shoes, saying a quiet goodnight.

                But Bella had the hardest time going to sleep—Hattie had been a small distraction from her thoughts, and now that they had separated for the night, her imagination was running wild again.

                She wondered if it would hurt very much, if things ended badly tomorrow. She wondered how much it would hurt her family.

                She knew she was far too stressed to sleep, so she did something she’d never done before. She deliberately took unnecessary cold medicine—the kind that would knock her out for a good eight hours. She didn’t really like taking unnecessary medicine, but she knew that tomorrow would be complicated enough without being loopy from sleep deprivation.

                While Bella waited for the medicine to kick in, she meticulously dried her clean hair until it was pin straight. Then she fussed over what she was going to wear tomorrow. Edward had been very partial to the shirt Hattie gave her, but would it be weird to wear it again, knowing so?

                After a while, she finally had everything sorted for the morning. Still, she felt hyper—twitchy, unable to relax. She thumbed through her playlists until she found the one with Chopin’s nocturnes, setting it to loop as she lay down in bed.

                She didn’t remember falling asleep, but next thing she knew, she was jolting awake to the sound of birds outside her window. It was still very early, the sunlight was diluted and pale through her curtains, but Charlie’s cruiser was already gone. Bella pushed them back, eying the sky—there were wispy, cottony clouds lingering in the atmosphere, but they didn’t look very lasting.

                Bella dressed quickly, smoothing down the collar of her shirt and tugging on her tan sweater until it hung just so over her jeans. She peered in the mirror at herself and sighed, wondering if Hattie could help with her hair.

                She wandered over to the room next door and raised her fist to knock, but Hattie was already opening it. She was still in pajamas, blinking a little blearily.

                “Bella?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “You look nice.”

                “Ah…thanks, Hattie,” Bella said awkwardly. “Can you help me with my hair?”

                “Yeah, meet me in the kitchen,” Hattie agreed, headed toward the bathroom.

                A few minutes later Hattie arrived in the kitchen armed with a hairbrush, a handful of hair ties, and a curling iron. She spent the next twenty minutes with Hattie’s hands tangled in her hair, tugging gently. Afterward her hair looked great—it was half-up, a couple of pieces of hair framing her face in gentle curls. Hattie didn’t go all-out on the curls, but Bella’s hair was definitely wavy.

                When Bella came back from brushing her teeth, she heard Hattie talking softly to someone. Her curiosity piqued—it was too early for Beau to have joined them—she rounded the corner.

                There was Hattie, speaking to Edward at the door. Bella hadn’t even seen his car on the walk back from the loft, which wasn’t surprising (the path was less than a yard long, and the driveway was mostly blocked by the house). He looked amazing, in a long tan sweater with a white collar peeking out and a pair of blue jeans.

                He glanced up from speaking to Hattie when she entered the area, looking a tad somber. Then his expression lightened and he laughed. “We match.”

                Bella looked at her own self, vaguely remembering that she’d put on her tan sweater and jeans. “So we do. Anyways, I’ll see you later Hattie. Have fun at the dance!”

                “Have a nice day,” Edward added, sounding ever the gentleman.

                Hattie waved at both of them as she stalked back to the kitchen, still clad in pajamas.

                Bella locked the door behind her, even though Hattie was inside, and they walked down the driveway. Edward’s Volvo was waiting behind the truck and he was already at the driver’s door.

                She grumbled under her breath. They’d made a deal that she could drive today, but because Beau had to use the truck to pick up Angela, it didn’t work out. And Bella was _not_ about to drive the Volvo…it would be just her luck if they got into an accident.

                So she climbed into the passenger side, settling in a position where she could easily clutch at the handle above the door. Just in case.

                Edward took them on the 101 North, heading out of town. Soon thick green underbrush replaced houses and lawns, and as he merged off onto the 110, he hummed. “Now we drive until the pavement ends.”

                “And what’s there?” Bella wondered, turning her head to watch him drive. The muscles along his jaw were so striking in the morning light. “At the pavement’s end?”

                “A trail.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he said it, and he turned to face her for a moment—showing off a perfect crooked grin.

                “We’re hiking?” Bella’s voice struck a mildly panicked tone. Thank goodness she’d decided to wear tennis shoes—though Hattie might be disappointed. Hiking probably wasn’t as romantic as her sister had had in mind.

                “Is that a problem?” Edward countered, almost amused. He sounded as if he’d expected as much.

                “No,” Bella replied too quickly. She tried to make the lie sound confident, tried to channel her inner Hattie, but she wasn’t sure it had worked.

                “Don’t worry, it’s only five miles or so, and we’re in no hurry.”

 _Five miles._ File miles of asphalt and gravel and dirt and tree roots, rocks and plants, hills and holes. Five miles of treacherous land to trip her up, twisting her ankles or otherwise incapacitate her. She had the vague thought that this outing was turning from _romantic_ to _humiliating._

                They drove in silence for a little while as she contemplated the coming horror, wondering if there was a way to escape it. After a few minutes of silence, Edward cut in.

                “What are you thinking?” he asked, impatient. He was so used to having all of the answers that it seemed to kill him not to.

                Bella lied again. “Just wondering where we’re going.”

                “It’s a place I like to go when the weather’s nice,”  Edward responded, glancing out the window. Bella followed his gaze to see the clouds thinning in the sky.

                “Charlie said it should be warm today,” she commented softly, watching as his knuckles tightened around the wheel.

                “And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?” he asked tightly.

                “Nope.”

                “But Jessica thinks we’re going to Seattle together?” He seemed cheered by the idea.

                “No, I told her you canceled on me—which is true.”

                He seemed even angrier now. “Nobody knows you’re with me?”

                Bella shook her head curtly. “Hattie does.”

                Edward’s anger seemed to ease off a little at this, but he was muttering softly under his breath—too quickly for her to make out. “Are you so depressed by Forks it’s made you suicidal?”

                “You said it might cause trouble for you…us being together publicly,” she reminded him, trying to take on the gentle, somewhat naïve tone Hattie often used on Beau. The one that she used when she was reiterating something he should already know, but wanted him to come to a conclusion on his own. (Somehow, she didn’t get the feeling it worked the same on Edward as it did on her brother, but she at least tried.)

                “So you’re worried about the trouble it might cause me—if you don’t come home?” he had that angry tone again, more biting sarcasm than true burning fury. She nodded once, and he continued muttering under his breath.

                The waves of infuriated disapproval rolled off of him lasted the rest of the trip, and Bella could think of nothing to say. It was moments like this when she felt she was an incomplete person. Normally there would be someone to fill in for her—Beau, or more recently Hattie, could easily fill any silence Bella created or caused. She was so used to having them around her that it was odd to realize how heavily she’d relied on them.

                But then the road ended.

                It constricted to a tighter foot-trail with a small wooden marker. As Edward threw the car into park on the narrow shoulder, Bella stepped out cautiously. She was afraid to meet his intense, angry gaze—at least while he was driving he had to pay some attention to the road. Now she had no excuse not to look at him.

                The day had grown warmer with their drive, warmer than it had been in Forks since before Bella had arrived. It was almost muggy under the clouds. She pulled off her sweater and knotted it around her waist, glad that she’d worn a light shirt underneath now that she knew she’d be hiking five miles.

                Edward had taken off his sweater, too. He started away from her, toward unmarked, unbroken forest across from the Volvo. “This way,” he called, obviously still annoyed. She felt her only saving grace was the fact that she _had_ told someone…even if it was only Hattie.

                “The trail?” Bella prompted, panic clear in her voice.

                “I said there was a trail, not that we were taking it.”

                “No trail?” she squeaked desperately as she raced to catch up with him.

                “I won’t let you get lost,” he said, with a mocking smile. As he turned she gasped, staring at him shamelessly.

                He wore his white shirt unbuttoned, so that the smooth white skin of his throat continued uninterrupted down the marbled contours of his chest. He was too perfect, she realized, with a stab of piercing despair. She felt there was no way a godlike creature such as him could be meant for someone like her.

                Edward took her tortured expression the wrong way. “Do you want to go home?” he asked, a different pain than Bella’s saturating his voice.

                “No,” Bella replied with surety. She eased up beside him, anxious to not waste one second of her time with him, now that she had come to the realization she’d lose him.

                “What’s wrong?” He asked, in a gentle voice.

                “I’m not a good hiker,” Bella replied dully. The white lie came out easily, since it was also a truth. “You’ll have to be very patient.”

                “I can be patient—if I make a great effort.”

                The words were said with an almost too-cheerful smile, trying to lift her out of her unexplained dejection. Bella tried to smile back, but it was obviously unconvincing, because he spoke again after searching her eyes deeply.

                “I’ll take you home,” he promised. It was unclear whether the promise was unconditional, a promise of her safety, or if it hinged on their immediate departure. Either way, she knew that he thought it was fear that had upset her.

                She was happy, again, that she was among those privileged few whose minds he couldn’t read.

                The hike wasn’t as bad as Bella had presumed it would be. Though it was treacherous, he held damp ferns and webs of moss aside for her. He helped her over fallen trees and boulders, lifting her by the elbow and then releasing her as soon as she was clear of the obstruction. His cold touch on her skin never failed to make her heart thud erratically. Twice, when this had happened, she caught a look on his face that made her sure he could somehow hear it.

                Bella wondered if Jacob’s touch affected Hattie in a similar way. Somehow, her suave sister didn’t seem the kind of girl whose pulse would go crazy when a cute boy touched her. (Though, given her penchant for dress-up and “Hollywood Moments”, perhaps Bella was wrong.)

                Mostly the duo walked in silence. Occasionally he would ask a random question that had somehow slipped his mind during the last couple days of interrogation. He asked about birthdays, if she and Beau celebrated separately or together (together), grade school teachers, childhood pets—and she had to admit that after killing three fish in a row, she’d given up on the whole situation. He laughed at that, louder than Bella was used to: bell-like echoes bouncing back from the empty woods.

                Particularly he seemed interested in her relationships with Beau and Hattie.

                Beau, whom she had had her entire life—Hattie who’d only entered it recently. And yet the trio had somehow melded together seamlessly. Bella often felt lost without their dual companionship: Beau’s dorky resolve, Hattie’s controlled cheer. When it had seemed they were getting closer to each other and leaving Bella behind, it’d been difficult.

                “We joke that Charlie likes Hattie more than he likes us,” Bella commented, after a question pertaining to Charlie’s attempt at fatherhood. “She’s his baby.”

                “Does that make you sad?” Edward asked, as if paternal love was a foreign concept to him.

                “No,” Bella said gently. “Hattie needs it more than me.”

                Edward quirked an eyebrow questioningly. “Because you’ve always been distant from your father?” he assumed.

                “Because her guardians abused her,” Bella refuted, not guilty about sharing her sister’s secrets. She had a lot of Edward’s secrets, he wouldn’t share Hattie’s with anybody. “She spent most of her time with a tutor—Professor, she calls him.”

                “I’m sorry to hear that,” Edward said genuinely. “It’s good of Charlie to take her in.”

                “I think he liked Hattie’s mom a lot,” Bella reckoned, edging her way over a fallen branch carefully. “She was Charlie’s youngest sister. He says he sees a lot of Aunt Lily in Hattie, though they don’t really look alike.”

                “Mannerisms, I presume,” Edward responded. “She’s strange, though. No offense intended.”

                Bella nodded, wondering how much she ought to share about her sister. “She’s had a rough life. A lot of people she loved have died. She doesn’t have much, beyond us.”

                The hike took most of the morning, but Edward never showed any signs of impatience. The forest sprawled out around them in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees, and she began to feel anxious that they’d never find their way out again. But Edward was perfectly at ease, comfortable in the green maze, never seeming to feel any doubt about their direction.

                After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky olive tone softening to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as he’d foretold.

                For the first time since entering the forest, Bella felt a thrill of excitement—which quickly turned to impatience.

                “Are we there yet?” she teased, pretending to scowl.

                “Nearly.” Edward smiled at the change in her mood. “Do you see the brightness ahead?”

                She peered into the thick forest. “Um, should I?”

                “Maybe it’s a bit soon for your eyes,” he said, smirking.

                “Time to visit the optometrist,” Bella muttered. Edward’s smirk only grew more pronounced.

                But then, after another hundred yards, she could definitely see the lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. She picked up the pace, her eagerness growing with every step. Edward let her lead now, following noiselessly.

                Bella reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place she’d ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers—violet, yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby, the quiet chattering of a small creek could be heard, bubbling like music. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. Bella walked slowly, awestruck, through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air.

                She halfway turned, wanting to share the moment with Edward, but he wasn’t behind her where she’d thought he’d be. She spun around, searching for him in sudden alarm, and finally spotted him. He was still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching her with cautious eyes. Only then did she remember what the beauty of the meadow had driven from her mind—the enigma of Edward and the sun, which he’d promised to illustrate for her today.

                Bella took a step towards him, eyes alight with curiosity. It made her seem younger, freer. His eyes were wary—reluctant—but she smiled encouragingly and beckoned him with her hand, taking another step back to him. He held a hand up in warning, and Bella hesitated, rocking back on her heels.

                Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~ I was too lazy to fix the formatting so I hope it doesn't bother you too much.  
> I didn't get much done for this story in April, so hopefully May will be different. I have a couple of very vivid scenes in my head for upcoming chapters I'm writing, but I don't know how to bridge the gap between where I'm at and where I'm going. There's a reason I took a year's break while writing this :P it'll all be good; I still have 20 more chapters written, so 20 weeks to get some more done!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place, I believe, on March 12 "2005". In the Twilight books, this is when Edward takes Bella to the meadow. I decided, because we all already know the meadow scene, to skip it--sorry! If you really want to read it, I believe it's chapter 12/13 of Twilight.
> 
> Also, please note that this chapter is where I picked up after 9 months of not writing for this story. There may be a slight difference in writing style, though I HAVE reread the story multiple times to try and catch any huge inconsistencies.

_“I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though.” ―Veronica Roth_

**══════**

                Hattie spent most of the afternoon after Bella left studying the Marauder’s Grimoire and the Animagus book side by side. In a fresh journal meant specifically for this task, she took her own notes, hoping perhaps one day to pass it down to a student of her own. Her neat handwriting slanted across the pages:

  * _Use a sticking spell to lodge the mandrake leaf within the roof of your mouth. If necessary, you may also use notice-me-nots. (Specific spells can be found on pg.5)_
  * _You may make your potion up to one week before you finish your month with the mandrake leaf. If you do not add the leaf within that week, however, you will have to start from scratch—the closer to finishing with your leaf, the better, as far as potion-making goes._
  * _It’s best to make one batch of potion per leaf. If you wish, you can bottle finished potions after adding the leaf so you may ingest the potion again at a later date to revisit your spirit animal._
  * _The potion needs to be exposed to the light of the full moon, and must steep in a dark place undisturbed until the time when there is an electrical storm._



                The notes were a mixture of things learned from the Marauders and things learned from the Animagus book. She wanted to truly prepare herself before she began the process: her goal was to find a car in the coming week and head to Seattle shortly thereafter in search of a magical community.

                Still, she didn’t know the specifics. How she would escape the house without anyone coming with her—how she would find a magical community—what she would do once there. Severus had said that she should be on the lookout for muggle repellent wards, but doing so would require her to unleash a portion of her magic…something she’d avoided doing in fear of being discovered.

                And her accent, it would draw attention in a magical community. She didn’t know the state of affairs of Wizarding USA, if her accent would cause her trouble or garner sympathy. Truly she didn’t even know how much the US knew about the struggles in the UK. Also, if she visited the bank whilst there, she didn’t know if there was a way for the regime to track it from the UK.

                There were a lot of worries for her to wonder about.

                And then there were inconsequential worries: she had never, ever been in a gathering of more than twenty-five or thirty wizards. She’d never been to a magical settlement before, shopped in magical shops, used magical money. She didn’t know how it would feel to be surrounded by so much _magic._

                But she tried to put those things out of her mind.

—x—

                When it came time, Beau helped her zip her dress up. It was a beautiful deep red, nearing maroon, which hit her at the knees in the front but fell mid-calf in the back. She was also wearing black flats, and her hair was done in a curly updo which the headband Jacob had made for her was tucked into. A sparkling necklace hung at her collarbone.

                “You look beautiful,” Beau commented. His own hair was curly, as per, but slicked with some sort of product that made the baby-soft curls bouncy and shiny, each curl seeming to have its own specific placement. It was longer on top than it was on the sides, and the resulting style gave Beau a look Hattie had never imagined on the boy. Sort of disheveled, roguish—mischievous. “Jacob’s a lucky man, Hattie.”

                “Angela’s quite lucky herself,” Hattie laughed. She didn’t feel shy or unconfident about her appearance—dressing up wasn’t something that was rare for her. But she’d never seen the Swan twins in anything other than t-shirts and jeans, and perhaps a nice blouse for Bella.

                Today Beau wore a dashing pink button-down, dress pants, shiny shoes—his tie was black with shiny pink threads sewn through it. He looked very, very handsome. The button-down really emphasized her brother’s wide shoulders—Beau Swan may be skinny, but he was not _scrawny._

                “Well, um, thanks,” Beau coughed, blushing a little. “I’m not—it’s not too much, is it?”

                “I don’t think so,” Hattie said, calculating. “If you had a jacket, it would probably be over the top. Save that for prom.”

                Beau nodded resolutely. “When’s Jake coming to pick you up? Do you want me to wait with you?”

                “Not long now. You can go, pick Angela up!” Hattie insisted, shoving him gently. “I’ll see you at the dance.”

                Her cousin-come-brother gave her a serious glance, like he wasn’t sure she’d be okay by herself, but then nodded again and headed for the door. This was a folly the Swans often fell into—most people, really. Hattie’s stature was such that people often underestimated her: she was so tiny, her shoulders so narrow, her limbs so thin—she looked like a little bird. It gave them a fierce need to protect her.

                However, underneath her clothing, Hattie was built athletically. Her stomach wasn’t as defined as it once had been, due to her inability to exercise these last weeks, but it was still firm—her arms were thin but toned, legs strong. And beyond even her physical strength was a magical one that others couldn’t see. But it suited Hattie just fine to be underestimated: it was easier to get the upper hand if you had the element of surprise on your side.

                There was a knock on the door not long after Beau departed, shaking Hattie out of her thoughts. She’d forgotten for a moment that she was about to go on her first proper outing with Jacob, and now her heart was fluttering in her chest and a flock of butterflies had taken roost in her belly.

                Easing on her jacket, making sure she had her purse and her phone, Hattie made her way to the door.

                There he was, standing outside it: tall and imposing, wide shouldered, looking as nervous as Hattie felt. Someone must’ve told him that Hattie’s dress was dark red, because his shirt was the same color, smooth across his chest. Just as Hattie had accessorized in black—black shoes, black bag, black jacket—so had Jacob, in black pants, with a black tie, and shiny (if worn) black shoes. His hair was clean and loose around his shoulders.

                They must’ve been quite the couple. She couldn’t wait to have her picture taken with him.

                “Hattie,” Jacob breathed after a moment, dark eyes raking over her form. “Wow.”

                “Wow?” she chirped, shutting the door behind her. There was something sort of taboo about the idea of inviting him in when she knew she was home alone—something that sent flurries of excitement inside of her tummy, but something that she also knew she shouldn’t do yet. “You look handsome, Jacob.”

                “You look beautiful!” Jacob responded immediately, almost shouting. He encapsulated her within his arms, squeezing almost too tightly, and let her go again almost as quickly. “Where’s your cast?!”

                Hattie’s lips turned up in a mischievous grin, holding her arm out proudly. “I’m very good at healing, or so says Dr. Cullen.”

                Jacob laughed a little and pulled her into a more gentle hug, holding her softly. Hattie relaxed into his body, enjoying the warmth of his body. All at once she realized that they were truly alone together for the first time—nobody was going to burst in on them if they took too long. Jacob seemed to realize this too, pulling away and searching her eyes.

                “Can I kiss you?” he asked, cheeks darkening a little bit. A nervous laugh bubbled out of Hattie’s chest as she nodded giddily, arching up onto her tippy-toes. He bent down to meet her, both hands on her hips.

                Hattie loved the taste of him. Peppermint and vanilla and tobacco all rolled into one—warm and comforting, his lips slick against hers. One of his hands trailed up to cradle the back of her neck, thumb stroking, coalescing into shivers of pleasure that rushed down her spine. She grasped at the front of his shirt, stretching as high as she could onto the tips of her toes for a better vantage point. She felt like a ballerina, and even the ache in her feet was not enough to pull her away from the man in front of her. She tried copying the movements he made, following the tilt of his head, the slope of his lips. She must’ve been doing something right because Jacob made a very happy-sounding noise, sending a spike of icy heat to the pit of her stomach.

                Jacob pulled away, panting and smiling a content, self-pleased grin. “We should go,” he chuckled breathlessly. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

                The innuendo was lost on Hattie, and she shook her head. “No, let’s go.”

                “You’re right,” Jacob agreed easily, wrapping an arm around her and leading her out to the same black car he’d had the other day. “It’d be a waste of a lovely dress and a lovelier date.”

                He helped her into the car, shutting the door softly behind her. After a moment he circled around to the driver’s seat and slid in. In the dim light and close quarters of the vehicle, his breathing seemed more intimate to Hattie, who had to look away.

                Jacob must’ve been feeling the same way, because he was silent as he started the ignition, throwing them into gear. The radio came on quietly in the background, but he smacked at the power button to turn it off.

                It was only when they were pulling out of the driveway that he spoke.

                “I don’t really know what you talk about on a first date,” he said lightly. “Especially since I feel like I should already know more about you.”

                They’d spent months conversing mostly over text-message and the phone: light-hearted banter, discussion of books and movies and TV shows, schoolwork, friends, their mutual days. But they hadn’t delved too deep. He knew about her penchant for pretty things, how she liked pastel colors, that she liked to dance and run and swim, but he didn’t know that she spent her summer evenings curled in an armchair in Professor’s study. That she liked the earthy, dusty smell of antique parchment tomes and ink more than just about any scent in the world. That Vernon called her “Girl” with enough derision that she used to wish she was a boy. Or how Dudley had turned the entire school against her by telling them that there was something wrong with her and bullying anyone who tried to be her friend. Or how Petunia taught her to do makeup the same way she taught everything else: punishing her when she did it wrong. Or anything about the Dursleys, really.

                It was the same the other way around, though. Hattie only knew the superficial details of Jacob’s life. He had two sisters—twins—called Rachel and Rebecca. One was married. He knew from Charlie that Jacob’s mom, Sarah, had died in a car crash. He had a lot of acquaintances, but his best friends were called Quil and Embry. He didn’t really know what he wanted to be as an adult, but he was good at working on cars, so he thought maybe he’d be a mechanic. His favorite color was red.

                “Red like anger?” Hattie had joked, “Red like blood?”

                “Red like passion,” Jacob had responded. “Like fire and warmth and love.”

                But Hattie didn’t know his hopes, or his fears, or his ambitions. She didn’t know his past regrets or his future wishes. Like Jacob, she felt like she should know much more about him than she actually did.

                “I have never been on a first date,” Hattie finally responded, after too much time had passed. “So, I don’t really know either.”

                “You haven’t?” Jacob asked, almost disbelieving.

                “Have you?” Hattie questioned, angling her body towards his. In the setting sun his skin seemed almost bronze.

                “Once,” Jacob said slowly. “It didn’t go very well. We were both kids—fourteen. But hey, it sounds better to say you’ve been on one awful date than no dates!”

                “I suppose so,” Hattie laughed. “No, I have never been on a date before.”

                “That’s hard to believe.” Jacob’s fingers ran smoothly over the steering wheel as he turned the car. “Unless those English boys don’t have eyes, I guess.”

                “I was just busy,” Hattie explained awkwardly. This was something she had a hard time with, pertaining to the relationships she was forming in Forks. How much truth could she share? What was okay, and what was too far, and what would require more explanation she couldn’t give? And, of course, how much could she omit without straight-out lying? “I studied a lot, and my aunt was really strict.”

                And the neighbors didn’t want their sons corrupted by her. She didn’t say that, though.

                “Was she worried that a relationship would distract you, or something?” Jacob asked, drumming on the steering wheel.

                “Or something,” Hattie forced a little laugh. She didn’t really want to ruin the mood of the night by going into the details of her crazy childhood. The neglect, the abuse, the feeling of being unwanted—the long days of school and Professor and chores—of feeling more at home in the house of a middle-aged man than in her own bedroom. Of the worry for her people, the worry for herself, the fear—how even on sunny, beautiful days it felt like she was hiding in darkened alleys sometimes.

                It was too much to go into, too many truths, and Jacob was not one of the few she was privileged to chronicle them to.

                “How about friends, then? You had to at least have had friends back home,” Jacob insisted. “You went to school, right?”

                “I had friends,” she agreed carefully. Again, a heavy subject. What she could share and what she couldn’t share were tangled inexplicably together. “Not from school though. My Professor—he was the one who tutored me—he sometimes brought me along to the homes of other Professors. We still write to each other sometimes.”

                He got that confused look on his face that she recognized from her family. The, _why don’t you just call them?_ Look. It was pretty much unheard of only to communicate via letters in this day and age, but how could she explain that the majority of her friends didn’t have cellphones—and even if they did, she couldn’t entrust her phone number to just _anybody._ They weren’t even supposed to be in contact. If the regime found one of her friends, anybody they were in contact with would be endangered.

                This is why Hattie feared for Professor, some days: he was the go-between for all of their network. He held them together. She would never be in danger of being found out, because her letters all came through Professor, and he would _never_ give her up—but anybody who was captured could endanger Professor in turn.

                Luckily, on the subject of letters, Jacob didn’t comment. Maybe he thought that it wasn’t simple to make phone calls overseas—who knew. She was grateful she didn’t have to lie to him, or make her friends out to be some sort of technology-rejecting weirdos.

                Instead they chatted about Jacob’s friends for a while. Hattie hadn’t actually met them—only Seth and Leah, that time at Christmas. But Quil and Embry seemed funny. Jacob said they were socially repressed nerds, but he said it fondly, and it was obvious he liked them. He was laughing about an adventure they’d had when Quil worked part-time at the corner store in La Push, including a raccoon, a trashcan, and a broom, when they pulled into the school.

                The parking lot was mostly full already, a bunch of small town kids with nothing better to do than arrive to the school dance early. Across the lot Hattie saw Beau helping Angela down from the truck and smiled to herself. Even though Beau wasn’t entirely certain he was seeking a relationship with her friend, he was treating her like a princess—Beau was a good guy. They looked good together, too.

                The gym wasn’t super decorated, but there were some balloons stuck up here and there. There were lots of flowers around, as well—the backdrop the yearbook committee had set up for couples’ photos were full of them. Music played through speakers, loud enough that it drowned out others’ conversations, but not too loud to hurt Hattie’s ears. Around the room there were chaperones, looking bored, and yearbook committee members taking photos half-heartedly.

                “Looks nicer than the dances we have,” Jacob said, sounding impressed. “Do you want to dance, or find some of your friends?”

                Hattie peered around, wondering the same thing herself: what was the protocol for dances? Her school back home had had galas, but she was never invited to one (nor would she have been allowed to go), but this seemed an entirely different affair. There were tables scattered around the room and a snack table near the back, and most people were huddled in small groups of friends, laughing together. A few were on the dance floor, but it didn’t seem like the point of the gathering was actually to dance.

                Angela and Beau had already been found by some of their friends: Jessica and Mike, looking put together and giddy; Lauren and Tyler, the former smug and the latter eager; Eric, who seemed exuberant, and McKayla, who didn’t look as happy about the arrangement. Hattie could bring Jacob to them, but Lauren hadn’t been very nice last time. Before she could make her decision, though, Angela had already caught sight of her and was waving her over.

                Ah, Angela.

                “Looks like we’re being paged,” Jacob joked, already guiding her to the group. “At least Beau’s there.”

                “At least you are here,” Hattie grumbled, but she _was_ happy that Beau and Angela could act as a buffer for the others. “Hi, guys.”

                “Hattie!” Angela cheered. Jessica wobbled forward in her heels to give Hattie a huge hug. “You look amazing!”

                “Yeah, you really look great!” Jessica gushed. “I guess Bella really decided not to come, then?”

                “Yeah, she really decided not to,” Hattie agreed, her words sounding kind of flat even to her own ears. She wondered what her sister was getting up to right now. Bella hadn’t even texted her, which made her worry that she was either hurt or enjoying herself _too_ much to remember.

                She tried to put that out of her mind—Edward didn’t seem like the kind of guy to take advantage of anybody, no matter what his aura felt like.

                She introduced Jacob around the group, though many—if not all—had met him at the beach already. Jessica took a little too much interest in him, which made Hattie feel a little bit over protective, and Lauren sneered with disdain. Mike and Eric were having a competition to see who could look the most put-out without making their dates upset (Mike was winning).

                “I’m gonna go get us something to drink,” Jacob said, breaking away from his conversation with Beau. “I’ll be right back.”

                As soon as he left the group, Mike announced, “Hattie, that guy is way too old for you!”

                “What?” Hattie asked, turning around from where she was watching Jacob. “I think he’s the same age as us.”

                “He’s pretty close to your age,” Beau confirmed, frowning. “Shove off, Mike.”

                “I just get weird vibes from him,” Mike shrugged, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. Eric was nodding along, though he looked unsure if he liked agreeing with Mike.

                “I’ve known Jake since we were kids,” Beau laughed. “Besides, you get weird vibes from the vending machine in the cafeteria.”

                “It seriously has a mind of its own!” Mike protested, but the others were laughing, clearly done listening to what he was saying.

                Hattie smiled when Jacob rejoined their group, taking her cup from him. “We should get our picture taken, Jacob.”

                “Oh, okay,” Jacob nodded. “I’d be honored to be photographed with such a beautiful woman by my side.”

                “You’re such a dork,” Hattie laughed, turning to leave with him.

                “We’ll come with you!” Angela called, dragging Beau along. “I want to get ours done too.”

                Beau wrapped his arm around Angela’s shoulders and smiled indulgently. “Of course, Angie.”

                Angela looked so happy in that moment that Hattie really, truly hoped Beau made up his mind soon.

                They ended up taking three pictures. Jacob and Hattie took one together, Angela and Beau took one together, and then the four of them all squeezed in, taking a group shot. If only Bella had been there and they could’ve had one all together—but hopefully she was enjoying herself anyways.

                Afterward, they finally got to dance. A slower song started, obviously one that Jacob recognized by the way his eyes lit up. He turned to her and did a half-bow, his hand out, palm up.

                “May I have this dance?” he asked, a bit cheekily, his lips stretching wide. Her heart fluttered a bit at the warmth in his eyes as he took in her form.

                “Of course,” she murmured, though her voice seemed to be failing her, so she simply placed her hand in his. He led her out to the dance floor, swooping her in close to him. A nearby chaperone looked at them a bit disapprovingly, but because there was no inappropriate touching, did not disturb them.

                Jacob was _not_ a good dancer. That was the first thing Hattie noticed. The second thing was that she didn’t care. He swept her along with him, mostly swaying side to side, sometimes turning in circles—it turned out that being encircled within his arms while he swayed her back and forth was just as nice as properly dancing. There was a similarity there, anyways.

                It was an entirely new experience for Hattie. The dim lights that, before, had seemed to be only hiding that this was a gymnasium seemed now to set a somewhat intimate mood. The smell of flowers permeated the air, second only to the peppermint that was Jacob. And his arms wrapped around her, the warmth they emitted as he moved with her… it was only a cringey high school semi-formal, but she had nothing else to compare it to. It was probably the most romantic thing she’d ever done.

                And then he leaned down so his mouth was at her ear and started singing to her in this soft, vulnerable, untrained voice.

                “Don’t wanna close my eyes, I don’t wanna fall asleep, ‘cause I’d miss you babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing.”

                His voice was—it was hard to explain. It wasn’t musical, or melodical, or anything close to that. It was deep and rough, not a singer’s voice, but the words still sounded nice on his lips. She closed her eyes and listened to him sing to her—the way it washed over her was more intimate than she could’ve ever imagined off-key singing could make her feel.

                That was how they spent the night. Dancing, sometimes slowly, with Jacob’s swaying and circling, or sometimes to more upbeat music, silly and a little wild. And when Jacob recognized a song he would come in close and sing her bits and pieces in his rough voice, which made her spine tingle in a pleasant way. She could listen to him sing to her for hours.

                Before she knew it, people began filtering out of the gym. She was so caught up in Jacob—Jacob’s eyes, Jacob’s smile, the way his voice wavered a little unsurely during romantic songs, the way he smelled, the warmth of his body next to hers—that she jumped when Beau tapped her on the shoulder.

                “Hey, I’m gonna head out now,” Beau said. She hadn’t seen much of him and Angela tonight (though she honestly probably wouldn’t have noticed them if she had), but Beau wasn’t much of a dancer anyways. “You good?”

                “Yeah,” Hattie said a little breathlessly. Then she looked around the gym and noticed that they were one of the last couples dancing. “It’s about time to go, isn’t it?”

                “Yeah,” Beau mimicked, a grin forming on his face. “A few minutes, probably. I’ll see you at home?”

                “Of course,” she nodded.

                “Drive safe man,” Beau told Jacob, punching his shoulder lightly. “Charlie’ll be expecting Hattie home soon after I get there.”

                It seemed like a warning, and Jacob nodded tightly.

                They finished out the song, and then Jacob led her by the hand from the dance floor. She collected her jacket and purse from the ‘coat check’ (manned by a bored-looking Sophomore reading a novel), and they were out the door.

                The night had grown chilly. It was nearing ten, and only being mid-March in the Olympic northwest meant that the jacket was a full necessity. Jacob drew her close as they left the building, moseying down the sidewalk toward the quickly emptying parking lot.

                “That was a lot of fun,” Hattie said honestly, looking up at Jacob with a happy smile. “Thank you for coming with me.”

                “Thank _you_ for inviting me,” Jacob corrected. They walked along in silence for a little bit, Hattie looking at the stars. She could see Leo, her zodiac sign, and Virgo, and even Cancer. She didn’t know all of the constellations—though astronomy was something she’d studied with Professor, she was never very good at it.

                As they approached the car, Jacob seemed a little lost in his own thoughts. He walked her to the passenger side and then suddenly stopped, turning to face her.

                “I have a question to ask you,” he said, very seriously. “I think I know the answer, but I’m still kind of nervous.”

                Hattie’s eyebrows knitted together, but all she could think of to say was, “Okay?”

                “Come here,” Jacob grunted, scooping Hattie up and depositing her on the hood of the car so that they were nearly face to face. “I like you a lot. I don’t like to be apart from you—it’s weird to describe, like there’s something in my stomach, like an anchor, and it feels heavier when you’re gone. I know I sound crazy. But I miss you, whenever we’re apart, and I know we can’t be together a ton because we both have school—I guess what I’m trying to say is, I want you to be my girlfriend.”

                “Oh,” Hattie responded smartly. She blinked a few times. “Is that the question?”

                Jacob let out a nervous laugh. “That’s the question. Will you be my girlfriend?”

                “Of course I will!” Hattie nearly shouted, her heart beating too hard in her chest. “Of course I will.”

                Jacob dove forward and captured her lips in a kiss, this one different from the others they’d shared. It was hungry, and full of passion: almost too rough to be pleasurable… _almost._ His hands were on the hood of the car on either side of her, his legs trapped between hers. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, almost desperate for more contact. He sucked on her bottom lip until she gasped at the sensation, and then his tongue entered her mouth—just briefly, like he wasn’t sure he should—and then they pulled apart, Jacob staring at her with those deep, deep eyes.

                She thought he was going to say something profound—hoped, even, that this would be like a moment out of a movie where he promised himself to her or something else entirely too cringey to actually think about. Instead, what she got was:

                “We should go, before Charlie sends a search team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! :D I want to wish a Happy Mother's Day to all my mommas out there, though I'm not sure how many of you there are! Here in the US today is Mother's Day, though I know that in the UK it was a different day (March 31?) and in other places around the world it may be different as well.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! I liked the sweet scenes between Jacob and Hattie, and just not having Hattie worry for once. 
> 
> This is the beginning of a really angsty arch. There's lots of cute and happy, but also angsty and sad. But hey, it's a drama! :D


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Follows along Twilight: 14 (yes, we did skip almost 2 whole chapters! But I figured it gets boring re-reading the same thing you already know, especially when I didn't really have anything to add!)
> 
> This chapter follows pretty closely with Twilight: 14, with the addition of Edythe and a few minor changes near the end. Because of how close it is to the original, I will post the next chapter up soon (probably tomorrow or Monday!)

_"And then I did laugh because I loved her, and she loved me, and the world was beautiful." —[Maggie Stiefvater](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1330292.Maggie_Stiefvater#)_

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                Like so many things, driving seemed effortless to Edward.

                He barely looked at the road, yet the tires never deviated so much as a centimeter from the center of the lane. He drove one-handed, holding Bella’s hand on the seat. Sometimes he gazed at the setting sun, sometimes he stared at her—taking in her face, her hair blowing out the open window, their hands twined together.

                She didn’t know if it was luck or destiny. She didn’t care, either.

                At some point, Edward turned the radio on to an oldies station and sang along to a song Bella had never heard. He knew every line.

                “You like fifties music?” Bella asked.

                “Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!” He shuddered. “The eighties were bearable.”

                “Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?” she asked, tentative. She didn’t want to upset his buoyant humor.

                “Does it matter that much?” Edward’s smile—to her relief—remained unclouded.

                “No, but I still wonder…” Bella grimaced. “There’s nothing like an unsolved mystery to keep you up at night.”

                “I wonder if it’ll upset you,” he reflected to himself. He gazed into the sun; the minutes passed.

                “Try me,” Bella finally said.

                He sighed, and then looked into her eyes, seeming to forget the road for a time. What he saw there must have encouraged him. He looked into the sun—the light of the setting orb glittered off his skin in ruby-tinged sparkles—and spoke.

                “I was born in Chicago in 1901.” He paused and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. She was careful to remain unsurprised, patient for the rest. He smiled a tiny bit and continued. “Carlisle found Edythe and I in a hospital in the summer of 1918. We were seventeen, and dying of the Spanish influenza.”

                Edward heard her intake of breath, though it was barely audible to her own ears. He looked down into her eyes again.

                “I don’t remember it well—it was a very long time ago, and human memories fade.” He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he went on. “I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It’s not an easy thing, not something you could forget.”

                “Your parents?” Bella prompted.

                “They had already died from the disease. Edythe and I were alone, near death. That’s why Carlisle chose us. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize we were gone.”

                “How did he…save you?”

                A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words carefully.

                “It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us…I don’t think you could find his equal throughout all of history.” He paused. “For me, it was merely very, very painful.”

                Bella could tell from the set of his lips that he would say no more on the topic. She suppressed her curiosity, though it was far from idle. There were many things she needed to think through on this particular issue, things that were only beginning to occur to her. No doubt his quick mind had already comprehended every aspect that alluded her.

                His soft voice interrupted her thoughts. “He acted from loneliness. That’s usually the reason behind the choice. He chose Edythe first, because she was closer to death…she was weak, though, from so long trying to fight off the sickness. He thought she died. So he turned me. But she woke up, too. We were the first in Carlisle’s family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They brought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still beating.”

                “So you must be dying, then, to become…” Bella hesitated. They never said the word, and she couldn’t frame it now.

                “No, that’s just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another choice.” The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spoke of his father figure. “It is easier he says, though,” he continued, “if the blood is weak.”

                He looked out at the now-dark road, and she could feel the subject closing.

                “And Emmett and Rosalie?”

                “Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. I didn’t realize till much later that he was hoping she would be to me what Esme was to him—he was careful of his thoughts around me.” He rolled his eyes. “But she was never more than a sister. It was only two years later that she found Emmett. She was hunting—we were in Appalachia at the time—and found a bear about to finish him off. She carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it herself. I’m only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her.”

                He threw a pointed glance in Bella’s direction, and raised their hands, still folded together, to brush her cheek with the back of his hand.

                “But she made it,” Bella encouraged, looking away from the unbearable beauty of his eyes.

                “Yes,” he murmured. “She saw something in his face that made her strong enough. And they’ve been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we enrolled in high school.” He laughed. “I suppose we’ll have to go to their wedding in a few years, again.”

                “Alice and Jasper?” Bella prompted again, afraid he would stop talking now.

                “Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged to another…family, a very different kind of family.  He became depressed, and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like Edythe and I, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind.”

                “Really?” Bella interrupted, fascinated. “But you said that you and Edythe were the only ones who could hear people’s thoughts.”

                “That’s true. She knows other things. She sees things—things that might happen, things that are coming. But it’s very subjective. The future isn’t set in stone. Things change.”

                His jaw set when he said that, and his eyes darted to Bella’s face and away so quickly that she wasn’t sure if she had just imagined it.

                “What kind of things does she see?”

                “She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She’s most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat that may pose.”

                “Are there a lot of…your kind?” Bella was surprised. How many could there be, walking among them undetected?

                “No, not many. But most won’t settle in any one place. Only those like us, who've given up hunting you people,” —a sly glance in Bella’s direction—“can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live... differently tend to band together.”

                “And the others?”

                “Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North.”

                “Why is that?”

                We were parked in front of Charlie’s house now, and he'd turned off his car. It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off, so Bella knew nobody was home yet.

                “Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?” he teased. “Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There's a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world. It's nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years.”

                “So that's where the legends came from?”

                “Probably.”

                “And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?”

                “No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn't remember her human life at all. And she doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If she hadn't had that other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle and known that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into a total savage.”

                There was so much to think through, so much Bella still wanted to ask. But, to her great embarrassment, her stomach growled. She'd been so intrigued, she hadn't even noticed she was hungry. She realized now that she was ravenous.

                “I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner.” Edward apologized gracefully, sounding frustrated at himself.

                “I'm fine, really.” Bella assured.

                “I've never spent much time around anyone who needs to eat food. I forget.”

                “I want to stay with you.” It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing as she spoke how her voice would betray her, her hopeless addiction to him.

                “Can't I come in?” he asked.

                “Would you like to?” Bella couldn't picture it, this godlike creature sitting in her father's shabby kitchen chair. Hattie barely seemed to fit there, and she had a perfectly ordinary type of beauty.

                “Yes, if it's all right.”

                Bella heard the door close quietly, and almost simultaneously he was outside her door, opening it for her.

                “Very human,” she complimented him teasingly.

                “It's definitely resurfacing.”

                He walked beside her in the night, so quietly she had to peek at him constantly to be sure he was still there. In the darkness of her driveway, between the overhang of the garage and the overhang of the house, he seemed much more normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer the fantastic sparkling creature from their sunlit afternoon.

                He reached the door before her—going into the main house—and opened it. Bella paused halfway through the frame.

                “The door was unlocked?” she asked. Hattie and Beau were usually very careful about keeping things locked up.

                “No, I used the key from under the eave,” Edward responded, motioning to it. If he had, he’d done it so quickly that Bella hadn’t even seen.

                She stepped inside, flicked on the porch light, and turned to look at him with her eyebrows raised. She was sure she’d never used that key in front of him.

                “I was curious about you,” he admitted. He didn’t seem apologetic.

                “You spied on me?” She demanded, but somehow couldn’t tinge her voice with the right amount of outrage. She was somewhat flattered.

                He was unrepentant. “What else is there to do at night?”

                Bella let it go for a moment and went down the hall to the kitchen. He was there before her, needing no guide. He sat in the very chair she’d tried to picture him in—his beauty lit up the kitchen. It was a moment before Bella could look away.

                She concentrated on getting her dinner, taking last night’s lasagna from the fridge and placing a square in the microwave. While she thought, she tried to think about Hattie making it yesterday: how she’d flicked some sauce at Beau when he said something sarcastic, or the methodical way she’d laid each noodle. Bella didn’t take her eyes away from her plate as she spoke.

                “How often?” she asked casually.

                “Hmm?” He sounded as if she’d pulled him from some other train of thought.

                Bella still didn’t turn around. “How often did you come here?”

                “I come here almost every night.”

                Bella whirled, stunned. “Why?”

                She could only think of the things he’d seen. It wasn’t just her. It was Hattie, and Beau, and Charlie. Her little makeshift family—the one they’d cobbled together, the way they struggled at times to fit in, even though it seemed perfect from the outside. Hattie was different from Beau and Bella, raised differently, and Charlie hadn’t raised any of them—so there was a strange, if interesting, dynamic there. Their pieces fit together, but it was like a patchwork. Sometimes their differences were overwhelming—but, sometimes, the differences were the reason they got along so well.

_She_ knew that their family functioned together not _despite_ their differences, but _because_ of them; she knew it, but an outsider might think it strange. So she wondered _._ Had he seen her and Beau discussing Hattie’s past? Arguing over something petty as siblings did? Had he seen her and Hattie discussing anything private?

                “You’re interesting when you sleep,” Edward responded matter-of-factly, after a moment. “You talk.”

                “No!” Bella gasped, heat flooding her face all the way to her hairline. It was even worse than she’d thought. She gripped the counter for support. She knew she talked in her sleep, of course; Beau and Hattie, as well as Renee, often teased her about it. She hadn’t thought it was something she had to worry about here, though.

                His expression shifted instantly to chagrin. “Are you angry with me?”

                “That depends!” Bella felt and sounded like she’d had the breath knocked out of her.

                “On?” he asked after a moment of waiting.

                “What you heard!” Bella wailed.

                She could think of many dreams she’d had recently that she didn’t want overheard by _anybody._ Instantly, though, he was at her side, taking her hands carefully in his.

                “Don’t be upset!” he pleaded. He dropped his face to the level of Bella’s eyes, holding her gaze. She was embarrassed, and tried to look away. “You miss your mother,” he whispered. “You worry about her. And when it rains, the sounds make you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it’s less often now. Once you said, ‘it’s too green.’” He laughed softly, hoping, I could see, not to offend me further.

                “Anything else?” Bella demanded.

                “You speak about Beau and Hattie often,” Edward responded. “You worry about Hattie. And…” he hesitated, knowing exactly what Bella wanted to hear. “You did say my name.” He admitted.

                Bella sighed in defeat. “A lot?”

                “How much do you mean by ‘a lot,’ exactly?”

                “Oh no!” she hung her head.

                He pulled her against his chest, softly, naturally.

                “Don’t be self-conscious,” he whispered in her ear. “If I could dream at all, it’d be about you. And I’m not ashamed of it.”

                Then they both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to them. Bella stiffened in his arms.

                “Should your father know I’m here?” Edward asked.

                “I’m not sure…” Bella muttered, trying to think it through quickly.

                “My car is here.” Edward pointed out.

                With a silent curse, Bella nodded resignedly. It would have to be today, then. Charlie’s key turned in the lock after a moment, and Bella was trying desperately to think of an excuse. But Edward was just smiling.

                “Bella?” Charlie called.

                “In here,” Bella responded, hoping that he couldn’t hear the hysterical edge to her voice. She sat down at the table, but Edward stood smoothly, tucking the chair in and putting his hands in his pocket. He looked as if he had just arrived, and was just getting ready to leave.

                “Oh,” Charlie muttered as he came in the kitchen door, seeing Bella sat at the table with her dinner and Edward standing nearby. “Uh, hullo.”

                “Hello, Chief Swan,” Edward greeted, holding out his hand. Charlie shook it with some confusion.

                “Dad, this is Edward,” Bella said, clearing her throat. “Edward Cullen.”

                “I have class with Beau,” Edward said cheerfully. “I borrowed his book and notes last week and I’ve been meaning to give them back. I forgot about the dance.”

                He was motioning to the counter behind Bella. Sure enough, there was a textbook and a notebook there—and they _were_ Beau’s. For the life of her, Bella couldn’t remember if they’d already been there, or if he had somehow managed to put them there when she wasn’t paying attention.

                “I see,” Charlie said, looking not entirely convinced.

                “I was really lucky Bella was here,” Edward continued. “I thought she was supposed to be in Seattle. I think that there’s some homework in Beau’s notes that he hasn’t finished yet, and I would hate for him to lose points because of me.”

                The lies rolled smoothly off Edward’s tongue in a way that they never did off Bella’s. Charlie finally seemed to buy it. It was hard to look at Edward and feel suspicious of him—he was just that beautiful—and giving in seemed to relieve Charlie.

                “That’s good, then. You’re a good man, Mr. Cullen.”

                “Thank you, sir. However—I should get going. My parents are going to start wondering where I’ve been. Nice to meet you, Chief. I’ll see you at school, Bella.”

                Bella stood to see Edward to the door, feeling relieved that he’d been able to convince Charlie. When they walked away, Edward chuckled lowly.

                “He’s not suspicious at all—in fact, he’s thinking about stealing your lasagna.”

                At the door, Bella prepared to say goodbye, but Edward cut her off.

                “Let me take my car home, and I’ll be back. If that’s alright with you?” he wondered, searching her eyes.

                Eagerness flooded her being. “Yes, of course!” She agreed. He nodded once and was gone, between one blink and the next somehow making it down the driveway to his car. She waited until the ignition had turned on before going back to the kitchen, where Charlie had decided to warm his own food up.

                She sat and ate with him, pouring them some milk.

                “How was your day?” Bella asked him, forcing herself to slow down while she chewed.

                “Good. The fish were biting…how about you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”

                “Not really—it was too nice out to stay indoors,” Bella responded in between bites.

                “It _was_ a nice day,” Charlie agreed. “Beau and Hattie not home yet?”

                “No, the dance goes till ten, so they’ll probably be home around then,” Bella explained. She finished the last bite of her lasagna, forcing herself to chew slowly, and then gulped down some milk.

                Charlie somehow noticed that she was having trouble not rushing. “In a hurry?” he asked.

                “A little,” Bella admitted, trying to downplay it. “I did a lot of walking today, so I really want a shower, and then I want to go up to bed. Maybe I’ll read a little bit.”

                “You look kinda keyed up,” he noted. Why, oh why was today the day that Charlie had to be observant?

                “Do I?” Bella wondered, scrubbing her dishes clean in the sink. “Hattie gave me a new book, so I’m eager to go read it.”

                “It’s Saturday,” Charlie mused. Bella didn’t respond, so he added, “No plans tonight?”

                “ _No,_ Dad,” Bella grumbled, trying not to snap at him. “I really do just want to shower and lay in bed.”

                “None of the boys in town are your type, eh?” Charlie was suspicious, but trying to play it cool.

                “No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet.”

                “I thought maybe that Mike Newton…you said he was friendly.”

                “He’s just a friend, Dad,” she sighed.

                “Well, you’re too good for them all anyway. Wait till you’re in college to start looking.”

                Every father’s dream—that his daughter would be out of the house before the hormones kicked in. He must be working hard on her since Hattie was already out there finding a man.

                “Sounds like a good idea to me,” Bella agreed as she headed for the door.

                “Night, honey!” Charlie called after her. No doubt he’d be listening carefully all evening, waiting for her to try and sneak out.

                “See you in the morning, Dad.” _See you creeping into the loft at midnight to check on me._

                She worked to make the shuffle of her feet sound tired as she left the house, closing the door a little too loudly behind her. Then she made sure to trudge the few steps to the garage, in case he was watching, and slammed the door a little too loudly (just so he could hear). And then—to be on the safe side—she took her time on the stairs, not wanting to turn the lights on too quickly and make him suspicious.

                Finally, she took her time getting ready for bed. She gathered up the silky Victoria Secret pajamas her mom had bought her two birthdays ago and headed into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth as thoroughly as she could, sure to get rid of any stray lasagna, and then hopped into the shower.

                The hot water felt amazing on her truly tired body. It worked the knots out of her muscles, easing her into a state of relaxation. By the time she was out of the shower, she probably really _could_ have went to sleep.

                She dressed in the pajamas—black, not really sexy despite the brand—and headed toward her room. She didn’t know how long it’d take Edward to get back, but she went to the window anyways and threw it open.

                The act of opening the window triggered a memory—how hers had been so easy to open, but Hattie’s had taken both of them to open that first warm day. She smiled a little smugly, though she’d already known that Edward didn’t have any interest in her sister.

                “Happy?” Edward’s voice asked from behind her. She whirled around in a panic, holding her chest. “What was that smile for?”

                He lay, smiling hugely, across Bella’s bed. His hands were behind his head, his feet dangling off the end, the picture of ease.

                “Oh!” Bella breathed, sinking unsteadily to the floor.

                “I’m sorry,” Edward coughed, pressing his lips together in an obvious bid to hide his laughter.

                “Just give me a minute to restart my heart.”

                He sat up slowly, so as not to startle her again. Then he leaned forward and reached out with his long arms to pick her up, gripping under her arms like she was a toddler, and sat her on the bed beside him.

                “Why don’t you sit with me,” he suggested, putting a cold hand on hers. “How’s the heart?”

                “You tell me—I’m sure you hear it better than I do.”

                His quiet laughter shook the bed.

                They sat there in silence for a moment, both listening to her heartbeat slow. She thought about Edward in her room, with Charlie not so far away and Hattie due home at any time.

                “Charlie thinks I’m sneaking out,” Bella said suddenly.

                “Oh.” He contemplated that. “Why?” As if he couldn’t know Charlie’s mind much more clearly than Bella could guess.

                “Apparently, I look a little overexcited.”

                He lifted her chin, examining her face.

                “You look very warm, actually.”

                He bent his face slowly to Bella’s, laying his cool cheek against her chin. She sat perfectly still.

                “Mmmm,” he exhaled, his cool breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine. It was very difficult, while he was touching her, to frame a coherent question. It took a minute of scattered concentration to begin.

                “It seems to be…much easier for you, now, to be close to me.”

                “Does it seem that way to you?” he murmured, his nose gliding to the corner of her jaw. She felt his hand, lighter than a moth’s wing, brushing her damp hair back, so that his lips could touch the hollow beneath her ear. The light touches seemed to set her on fire, but she stayed as still as possible.

                “Much, much easier,” she said, trying to exhale.

                “Hmm…”

                “So I was wondering…” Bella began again,  but his fingers were tracing her collarbone and she lost her train of thought.

                “Yes?” he breathed.

                “Why is that, do you think?” Her voice was shaking, and it embarrassed her.

                She could feel the tremor of his breath on her neck as he laughed. “Mind over matter.”

                Bella pulled back; as she moved, he froze—and she could no longer hear the sound of his breathing.

                They stared at each other for a moment, and then, as his clenched jaw gradually relaxed, his expression became puzzled.

                “Did I do something wrong?”

                “No—the opposite—you’re driving me crazy,” Bella explained.

                Edward considered that briefly, and when he spoke, he sounded pleased. “Really?” A triumphant smile lit his face.

                “Would you like a round of applause?” she asked sarcastically, still trying to calm her body down from his gentle ministrations.

                He just grinned.

                “I’m just pleasantly surprised,” he clarified. “In the last hundred years or so,” his voice was teasing here, “I never imagined anything like this. I didn’t believe I would ever find someone I wanted to be with…in another way than my brothers and sisters. And then to find, even though it’s all new to me, that I’m good at it…at being with you…”

                “You’re good at everything,” Bella pointed out.

                He shrugged, allowing that, and they both laughed quietly.

                “But how can it be so easy now?” Bella pressed. “This afternoon…”

                “It’s not easy,” he sighed. “But this afternoon, I was still…undecided. I am sorry about that, it was unforgivable for me to behave so.”

                “Not unforgivable,” Bella disagreed.

                “Thank you.” Edward smiled. “You see,” he continued, looking down now, “I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough…” He picked up one of her hands and pressed it lightly to his face. “And while there was still that possibility that I might be…overcome”—he breathed in the scent at my wrist—“I was…susceptible. Until I made up my mind that I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would…that I ever could…”

                She’d never seen him struggle so hard for words. It was so…human.

                “So there’s no possibility now?”

                “Mind over matter,” he repeated, smiling, his teeth bright even in the darkness.

                “Wow, that was easy,” Bella said.

                He threw back his head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but still exuberantly. “Easy for you!” he amended, touching my nose with his fingertip.

                And then his face was abruptly serious.

                “I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice pained. “If it gets to be…too much, I’m fairly sure I’ll be able to leave.”

                Bella scowled at the talk of leaving. She didn’t like the idea of it.

                “And it will be harder tomorrow,” he continued. “I’ve had the scent of you in my head all day, and I’ve grown amazingly desensitized. If I’m away from you for any length of time, I’ll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think.”

                “Don't go away, then,” Bella responded, unable to hide the longing in her voice.

                “That suits me,” he replied, his face relaxing into a gentle smile. “Bring on the shackles—I'm your prisoner.” But his long hands formed manacles around her wrists as he spoke. He laughed his quiet, musical laugh. He'd laughed more tonight than she'd ever heard in all the time she'd spent with him.

                “You seem more... optimistic than usual,” Bella observed. “I haven't seen you like this before.”

                “Isn't it supposed to be like this?” He smiled. “The glory of first love, and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?”

                “Very different,” she agreed. “More forceful than I'd imagined.”

                “For example”—his words flowed swiftly now, she had to concentrate to catch it all— “the emotion of jealousy. I've read about it a hundred thousand times, seen actors portray it in a thousand different plays and movies. I believed I understood that one pretty clearly. But it shocked me...” He grimaced. “Do you remember the day that Mike asked you to the dance?”

                Bella nodded, though she remembered that day for a different reason. “The day you started talking to me again.”

                “I was surprised by the flare of resentment, almost fury, that I felt—I didn't recognize what it was at first. I was even more aggravated than usual that I couldn't know what you were thinking, why you refused him. Was it simply for your friend's sake? Was there someone else? I knew I had no right to care either way. I tried not to care.

                “And then the line started forming,” he chuckled. Bella scowled in the darkness.

                “I waited, unreasonably anxious to hear what you would say to them, to watch your expressions. I couldn't deny the relief I felt, watching the annoyance on your face. But I couldn't be sure.

                “That was the first night I came here. I wrestled all night, while watching you sleep, with the chasm between what I knew was right, moral, ethical, and what I wanted. I knew that if I continued to ignore you as I should, or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that someday you would say yes to Mike, or someone like him. It made me angry.

                “And then,” he whispered, “as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed. The feeling that coursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn't ignore you any longer.” He was silent for a moment, probably listening to the suddenly uneven pounding of her heart.

                “But jealousy... it's a strange thing. So much more powerful than I would have thought. And irrational! Just now, when Charlie asked you about that vile Mike Newton...” He shook his head angrily.

                “I should have known you'd be listening,” Bella groaned.

                “Only to his thoughts.” Edward amended. “I was taking my car home when it actually happened.”

                “That made you feel jealous, though, really?”

                “I'm new at this; you're resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it's fresh.”

                “But honestly,” Bella teased, “for that to bother you, after I have to hear that Rosalie—Rosalie, the incarnation of pure beauty, Rosalie—was meant for you. Emmett or no Emmett, how can I compete with that?”

                “There's no competition.” His teeth gleamed. He drew her trapped hands around his back, holding her to his chest. She kept as still as she could, even breathing with caution.

                “I know there's no competition,” she mumbled into his cold skin. “That's the problem.”

                “Of course Rosalie is beautiful in her way, but even if she wasn't like a sister to me, even if Emmett didn't belong with her, she could never have one tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me.” He was serious now, thoughtful. “For almost ninety years I've walked among my kind, and yours... all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you weren't alive yet.”

                “It hardly seems fair,” Bella whispered, her face still resting on his chest, listening to his breath come and go. “I haven't had to wait at all. Why should I get off so easily?”

                “You're right,” he agreed with amusement. “I should make this harder for you, definitely.” He freed one of his hands, released her wrist, only to gather it carefully into his other hand. He stroked her wet hair softly, from the top of her head to her waist. “You only have to risk your life every second you spend with me, that's surely not much. You only have to turn your back on nature, on humanity... what's that worth?”

                “Very little—I don't feel deprived of anything.”

                “Not yet.” And his voice was abruptly full of ancient grief.

                Bella tried to pull back, to look in his face, but his hand locked her wrists in an unbreakable hold.

                “What—” Bella started to ask, when his body suddenly became alert. She froze, but he slowly released her hands and cocked his head to the side as if listening. She stilled as well, trying to hear what he could hear.

                It wasn’t that hard, after a moment, as the truck came closer to the house. The truck was a monster and the closer it got, the louder it became. Soon it was in the driveway, the ignition cutting and doors slamming.

                “It’s just Beau,” Bella whispered, unsure why he was frozen the way he was. She couldn’t hear what her brother was doing, but she could imagine him walking up the driveway to the house—he always followed the sidewalk up the driveway and used the side door, the one that was across from the garage door, instead of using the front door like Charlie. Perhaps because it was a shorter walk, or perhaps out of habit?

                “Charlie’s going to have him come up here,” Edward informed her matter-of-factly. “To make sure you didn’t sneak out.”

                Sure enough, a few minutes later she heard the garage door bang open, the storm door making a lot of noise as it hissed closed. Beau was cursing—clearly he hadn’t meant to be so noisy—as he tromped up the stairs, making more noise than was necessary.

                Hattie and Bella had perfected the art of walking quietly up to the loft. The garage itself was mostly used for storage, so the doors that were meant for cars were hardly ever used. The entrance to the loft was on the side of the garage, and directly across from it, maybe three or four steps, was the door to the house proper. When you entered the loft door, there was another door right on the landing that led into the garage. And then there was the stairwell leading up. The stairs were old, and many of them squeaked and creaked—but Hattie and Bella knew exactly where to walk to avoid being noisy.

                Beau hadn’t spent a lot of time in the loft, so the sound of his advance was clear to even Bella’s ears as he clomped up the steps. Edward disappeared as he came closer to Bella’s door—the first one in the short hallway—and she turned her lamp on and pulled out a book as an excuse.

                A minute later, Beau’s telltale knock came on her door. “Bells?”

                “Beau?” Bella responded, pretending to be surprised. “It’s open.”

                Beau cracked the door a little at first, as if unsure, and then opened it all the way. He was still dressed for the dance, his tie undone and the first couple buttons of his shirt popped. He leaned against the doorway. “Dad asked me to check on you.”

                “I told him I was just going to read!” Bella groused, holding up her book. “How was the dance?”

                “It was good,” Beau nodded, slowly. “I had fun. Angela had fun.”

                “Hattie?” Bella prompted.

                “Hattie and Jacob danced the entire night away,” Beau laughed, flashing his pearly whites. Somehow, they weren’t as white as Edward’s. “She shouldn’t be long. The dance was wrapping up as I left. Anyways, I’m gonna go let dad know that his little rebel is right in bed where she should be. Have a good night.”

                Bella muttered goodnight under her breath as he closed the door, setting her book aside again. She listened as he retreated back down the steps again, and halfway down, Edward reappeared.

                “You could’ve stayed,” Bella told him. “Beau wouldn’t have ratted me out.”

                “Your brother wouldn’t have had anything to say about a man in your bed?” Edward asked, raising an eyebrow.

                Bella hesitated, and then admitted he had a point. “I guess you’re right.”

                It was only a couple of minutes later when he cocked his head again, not seeming nearly as on-edge. Whatever car Jacob was driving was quiet enough that Bella couldn’t hear it down in the driveway, but she did hear the doors close and their dual laughter as he walked her to the door.

                “She sounds happy,” Edward said, seeming strained. Bella gave him an inscrutable glance and nodded. Jacob was good for her sister.

                Hattie must’ve went in to say goodnight to Charlie, because it was a few more minutes before the garage door opened back up again. Unlike Beau, Hattie’s footsteps were light, and Bella couldn’t hear where she was—she counted in her head the amount of time it took from the door closing, and guessed when Hattie would be at the top of the stairs.

                “Should I hide?” Edward asked quietly, eyes sparkling with good humor.

                “If you want to,” Bella shrugged. “Hattie’s good at keeping secrets.”

                _Which is really, really frustrating, when those secrets are kept from_ me _,_ Bella thought.

                Hattie’s excited, feather-light knocking was heard on Bella’s door. “Bella? Beau said you’re awake!” Then it paused for a moment, and came back in full force. “Who’s in your bedroom? Bella?”

                Bella and Edward’s eyebrows both raised, Edward looking that same mixture of shocked and confused he always seemed to be when Hattie was around. His nostrils flared a little bit.

                Bella rolled out of bed and went toward the door, feeling the need to confront her sister—how did she know that there was someone in her room? She threw open the door and there Hattie was: looking a little out-of-breath, cheeks tinged pink, hair a little wild. But she was still in her dress, and somehow she managed to look like a princess.

                “Hi,” Hattie said, her eyes bright, voice a little meek after her over-excited knocking.

                “Hi, Hattie,” Bella muttered, looking her sister over. “You look like a princess.”

                “I feel like a princess!” Hattie squealed, doing an excited little spin. “Oh! Anyways! Who is in your room?” She was trying to peer past Bella’s shoulders, but she was so short that it was near impossible. “Is it Edward?”

                Bella opened the door a little wider so that Hattie could see Edward, sat cross-legged on her bed. He gave her a wave that was mostly just him wiggling his fingers, and her excited bouncing ceased. She seemed serious all of the sudden as she looked him over.

                “How did you know he was here?” Bella demanded, looked over Hattie’s curious face.

                Hattie didn’t take her eyes off of Edward as she spoke. “I just had the feeling,” she murmured. “Here.” Her hand gestured to her tummy.

                “You’re lying,” Bella accused.

                “I’m not!” Hattie yelped, turning to look at Bella. “I truly just had the feeling that he was here!”

                Bella eyed her sister wearily, looking her over for any sign of deceit. The issue was that Hattie either _never_ lied (something that Bella knew was untrue, she’d seen her lie before) or she was such a good liar she had no obvious tells. She couldn’t decide if Hattie was lying currently, but how else would she have known Edward was here?

                “You must be a witch,” Bella joked uneasily, watching Hattie seem to shrink under her scrutiny.

                “Must be,” Hattie said weakly, looking at her toes. “Anyways—I came to tell you I had the best night. But, I will let you be with Edward. We can talk tomorrow.”

                Bella watched her sister turn away with some sort of fondness in her chest. Hattie was a good sister. Then, the other girl looked over her shoulder with a devilish smile. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

                “Hattie!” Bella shrieked, slamming the door so hard that she wondered if the boys could hear it in the house. The sound of Hattie’s excited laughter filtered down the hallway until her door, too, was closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Bella! You really don't know how true your words are! :) 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! If you haven't noticed, I went back and added hyperlinks to all of the authors quoted at the beginning of the chapter. Let me know, what's your favorite quote so far? I love each of these books fiercely, though I have to say that my very favorite quotes are still to come!
> 
> So I have this whole huge list of quotes specifically for this work, and what I do is I finish the chapter and then I choose which will work best. But there are a few cases where I have already had a quote picked out long before I wrote the chapter. For example, there are a couple of chapters I know are coming up. I have them listed out in my notes, and their quotes are already allotted; "The chapter with THE TRUTH," or "When *** comes to terms with THE TRUTH," or "For a great departure/the end," etc. 
> 
> If you have any great quotes from books that you love, let me know! :) I'd love to read them.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the next chapter! :D Follows Twilight: 15

_“Life is a book and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read.” ―Cassandra Clare_

_══════_

                Eventually, the knocking on the door woke Bella up. It took her a few moments to come around, to realize that the incessant noise was knocking, and then another second to realize it was Hattie knocking. There comes a certain level of familiarity with spending time with your family. Bella could pick out Beau and Hattie’s footsteps, their breathing, or—yes—the way they knocked on doors from a group of a hundred people.

                Bella rolled over on her bed and made some sort of grumbling noise that must’ve alerted Hattie that she _was_ actually awake, because the knocking finally stopped. Bella was half-tempted to close her eyes and go back to sleep when a niggling _something,_ like a half-remembered dream, struggled to break into her consciousness. She moaned and rolled onto her side.

                The memory of the previous day flooded back into her awareness at the same time that she realized she was clenching her fist around a piece of paper.

                She sat up slowly, not looking around the room, and opened the piece of paper. It had Edward’s perfect, elegant handwriting on it.

                _Bella,_

_I had to leave to go get my car so Beau wouldn’t be suspicious. Don’t worry, I will be back by the time you’re having breakfast._

_Edward_

                A vague feeling of disappointment welled within Bella’s chest—and was promptly replaced with relief and she saw herself in the mirror. Her hair was like a haystack atop her head, and her pajamas were askew from a night of hard sleep.

                The bathroom was pretty steamy from Hattie’s morning shower. Bella wiped the mirror dry with a towel and began getting herself ready for another day.

                She dressed in her only skirt—a long, flowy cream-colored skirt—and the blue blouse that Hattie had given her. She brushed the knots out of her hair, using a little bit of Hattie’s hair product to smooth it down. Then she brushed her teeth thoroughly before shoving her feet into the first pair of shoes she found and making her way to the house.

                Hattie was zooming around the kitchen, wearing an apron and cleaning up the pans she’d used to cook breakfast. She looked like the tiny housewife Jessica had joked about her being, back in Port Angeles. Beau was half-asleep in his coffee, still in his pajamas. When Bella came in he looked up briefly at her before taking another swig of his coffee.

                Hattie turned to see her and smiled. “Good morning!”

                “Morning,” Bella mumbled back. Hattie came closer and looked her over. “What?”

                “I think if you tuck your shirt in—like this—and bring your skirt up to your waist—it’ll be really flattering on your figure.”

                With deft hands, her sister fixed her outfit and somehow managed to make her look a thousand times better. Hattie was right, wearing the skirt at her waist and tucking in her shirt made her appear slimmer and enhanced her hour-glass shape.

                “How do you know these things?” Bella asked gratefully, moving to get some pancakes.

                “Aunt Petunia,” Hattie responded. “She thought a lot about appearances.”

                Bella nodded her head slowly as Hattie continued on cleaning. When Beau went upstairs to get ready for the day, Hattie whirled around to face Bella, curiosity shining in her eyes.

                “Did Edward leave out the window or something? I didn’t hear him leave last night,” her sister whispered conspiratorially. Bella choked on her pancakes.

                “Um…” she hesitated, wondering what exactly she should tell Hattie. Luckily, she was saved by the bell—the doorbell, that is. “That’s him now.”

                Bella rushed out to let him in, throwing open the door in relief. He had changed his clothes, and was now wearing a sweater.

                “Good morning,” Edward chuckled, leaning down to kiss her temple slowly. “You smell like maple.”

                “We’re having pancakes for breakfast,” Bella explained, then quieter, “Hattie just asked me if you left through the window.”

                Edward’s musical laughter preceded them into the kitchen. Hattie looked up from where she was drying some dishes, eyebrows drawing together.

                “Good morning, Edward. Would you like some pancakes?” she asked, looking between the two.

                “No, thank you—I ate at home,” Edward lied smoothly. “Good morning to you, too.”

                He stared at Hattie’s back for a moment too long when she turned back to her task. Bella watched him with trepidation, but it wasn’t a sort of _attracted_ stare…it was as if Hattie was a curiosity, like a problem he hadn’t solved yet.

                “What’s on the agenda today?” Bella asked after a moment. Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Hattie beat him to it.

                “We were supposed to go car shopping.”

                Something like regret bubbled in Bella’s stomach. “Oh, that’s right! That’s today.”

                “But—if you have plans—” Hattie stuttered, turning to look at Bella. She looked so small. It irked Bella how she was able to do that, make herself seem small and innocent. “—I can get Jacob to go with me. He knows a lot about cars, anyways.”

                Edward’s posture went rigid when Jacob’s name was spoken, and it took him a few moments to relax. “I actually was going to see if Bella wanted to meet my family today, Hattie. If you don’t mind?”

                Bella stared a hole in the side of Edward’s head. Suddenly she wasn’t sure which she would prefer—she had promised Hattie they’d go together, but Edward wanted to spend time with her. But Edward wanted her to meet his family, which she was terrified of.

                “Oh!” Hattie looked between the two of them. “Well, let me just text Jacob then. I’m sure he’ll be happy to come with me!”

                “Sorry to ruin your plans,” Edward said, genuinely. “I didn’t know—or I wouldn’t have made plans.”

                “It’s alright,” Hattie shrugged. “I’m eager to spend more time with Jacob, anyways.”

                “Speaking of that,” Beau said, sauntering down the stairs. “You were awfully happy last night. What happened?”

                Bella turned to look at her brother, who didn’t look like he was planning on doing much of anything today. He was wearing lounge pants and a paint-stained t-shirt, his hair falling in his face.

                Hattie’s cheeks turned pink but she smiled and almost seemed to vibrate. “Jacob asked me to be his girlfriend.”

                Almost forgetting Edward was there, Beau and Bella both whooped loudly, congratulating Hattie. Edward watched the show with growing amusement as Beau tucked Hattie under his arm, rubbing her head affectionately.

                “Our baby bird, all grown up!” Beau crowed.

                “Hey, it’s not like she’s married or something!” Bella protested.

                “They might as well be!” Beau laughed, finally letting Hattie escape his hold. “Wait till Charlie hears. I doubt he’ll let Jacob come in the house anymore.”

                “No, he’ll just say, ‘Hattie’s a good girl’, and move on,” Bella rolled her eyes.

                “He does not like the idea of it,” Hattie finally said. “He does not think I am ‘ready’ to be in a relationship, or something.”

                “Yeah, he’ll come around,” Beau grunted, throwing himself down in the chair across from Edward. “Jake’s a good guy.”

                “And he likes you a lot,” Bella added.

                Hattie’s phone chirped, and she opened up the message she received. “Well, that is settled—he’s on his way to get me. Are you sticking around long, Bella? Edward?”

                “What? Where are they going?” Beau demanded, rounding on Bella.

                “I’m…going to go meet Edward’s family,” Bella said, unsurely. Edward nodded stoically.

                “Oh, so it’s that sort of thing now,” Beau chuckled, eying Edward. “Well then.”

                “Beaufort.” Hattie said, sarcastic firmness in her voice. “Be kind.”

                “We actually should get going,” Edward cut in after a moment, seeming eager to go. “Whenever you’re ready, Bella.”

                So Bella said goodbye to her siblings and anxiously followed Edward out to his car. She didn’t know what the big hurry was, but she had a feeling it was something to do with Jacob. He didn’t seem to like the other boy much—though she was pretty sure they’d never formally met, and she couldn’t imagine _why_ Edward would dislike him.

                Maybe because he knew that the Quileute elders had superstitions about his family?

                Bella slid into the Volvo and soon he was smoothly pulling out, looking less tense the further he got from the Swan residence.

                Bella realized, as he drove out of the main part of town, that she had no idea where he lived. They passed over the bridge at Calawah River, the road winding northward, the houses flashing past growing further and further apart, getting bigger. And then they were past the other houses entirely, driving through misty forest. She was trying to decide whether to ask or be patient, when he turned abruptly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpentine, around the ancient trees.

                And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and suddenly they were in a small meadow—or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn’t relent though, for there were six primordial cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their protective shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose among them, making obsolete the deep porch that wrapped around the first story.

                Bella didn’t know what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration. Edward’s Volvo was the only car in sight. She could hear a river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.

                “Wow,” she finally said.

                “You like it?” Edward smiled.

                “It…has a certain charm.”

                He pulled on the end of Bella’s ponytail gently, and chuckled. “Ready?”

                “Not even a little bit—let’s go.” Bella tried to laugh, but it seemed to get stuck in her throat. She smoothed her hair nervously.

                “You look lovely,” he assured, taking her hand easily, without even thinking about it.

                They walked through the deep shade up to the porch. She knew he could feel her tension; his thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of her hand.

                He opened the door for her.

                The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It was very bright, very open, and very large. This must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide open space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

                Waiting to greet them, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular grand piano, were Edward’s parents.

                Bella had seen Dr. Cullen before, of course. He’d treated both her _and_ Hattie. But she couldn’t help but be struck again by his youth, his outrageous perfection. At his side was Esme, Bella assumed, the only one of the family she’d never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded Bella of the ingénues of the silent-movie era. She was small, slender, yet less angular, more rounded than the others. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in welcome, but made no move to approach Edward and Bella. Trying not to frighten her, she guessed.

                “Carlisle, Esme,” Edward’s voice broke the short silence, “this is Bella.”

                “You’re very welcome, Bella.” Carlisle’s step was measured, careful as he approached her. He raised his hand tentatively, and she stepped forward to shake hands with him.

                “It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen,” Bella said softly, thinking of the last time—curled in Hattie’s hospital bed.

                “Please, call me Carlisle.”

                “Carlisle, then,” Bella grinned, surprised at her sudden confidence. Perhaps it was the thought of Hattie, but she was emulating her sister.

                Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for Bella’s hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as Bella expected.

                “It’s very nice to know you,” she said sincerely.

                “Thank you. I’m glad to meet you, too.” And she was—it was like meeting a fairytale. Snow White, in the flesh.

                “Where are Alice and Edythe?” Edward asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the top of the wide staircase.

                “Hey, Edward!” Alice called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop right in front of Bella. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but Bella liked it—it was natural. For her, anyway.

                “Hi, Bella!” Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss her cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was shock in Bella’s eyes, too, but she was pleased that Alice seemed to approve of her so entirely. She was startled to feel Edward stiffen at her side. She glanced at his face, but his expression was unreadable.

                “You _do_ smell nice. I never noticed before.” Alice commented, to Bella’s extreme embarrassment.

                No one else seemed to know exactly what to say, but then Jasper was there—tall and leonine. Right beside him, looking reluctantly amused, was the beautiful, timeless Edythe. A feeling of ease spread through Bella, and she was suddenly comfortable despite where she was. Edward stared at Jasper, raising an eyebrow, and Bella remembered what Jasper could do.

                “Hi, Bella,” Edythe said, in that musical, feminine voice of hers. It was no wonder Beau had such a crush on her. “I hope you and your family are well.”

                “Hello, Bella,” Jasper added quietly. He kept his distance, not offering to shake her hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.

                “Hi, Edythe, Jasper.” Bella smiled shyly at them all. “It’s nice to meet you all—you have a very beautiful home.”

                “Thank you,” Esme said. “We’re glad that you came.” She spoke with feeling, and Bella realized that Esme thought her brave.

                Bella also realized that Rosalie and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and she remembered Edward's too-innocent denial when she'd asked him if the others didn't like her.

                Carlisle's expression distracted her from this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Edward nod once.

                Bella looked away, trying to be polite. Her eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. She suddenly remembered her childhood fantasy that, should she ever win a lottery, she would buy a grand piano for Beau. He wasn’t really skilled at it—he didn’t have the opportunity to practice often enough for any true skill—but he had enough natural talent that he could be good if he tried. Bella loved watching him play. It wasn’t like when he did art, the thick look of concentration he’d gain as he put brush to canvas or pencil to paper or hands to clay. It was a look of freedom, ease, like the only thing that mattered was the sound each key made when pressed just so. Bella had been put through lessons, right beside him, but she’d never found freedom in the sound an instrument made when loved. It was only a short time before she’d whined enough that their mother let her quit.

                Esme noticed her preoccupation. “Do you play?”

                Bella shook her head. “Not at all—my brother, Beau, does. But it’s so beautiful. Is it yours?”

                She pretended not to notice Edythe’s eyebrows quirk in reaction to that statement—whatever that meant. There was a look exchanged between Edythe and Edward, like they were having a silent conversation (and perhaps they were).

                Esme just laughed and shook her head. “No. Edward didn’t tell you he’s musical?”

                “No,” Bella murmured, glaring at the suddenly innocent expression on his face. She thought back to the previous night; the way he’d hummed her a lullaby. It should’ve seemed obvious. “I should’ve known, I guess.”

                Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion, almost a mockery of Edythe’s earlier reaction.

                “Edward can do everything, right?” Bella wondered.

                Jasper snickered. Edythe looked like she wanted to protest, perhaps feeling the same bubbling need to tease her twin brother that Bella often felt—Alice looked as if she were considering the notion. But Esme just shot Edward a reproving glare.

                “I hope you haven’t been showing off—it’s rude,” Esme scolded.

                “Just a bit,” Edward laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound and they shared a brief look Bella didn’t understand, though Esme’s face seemed almost smug.

                “He’s been too modest, actually,” she corrected, without knowing why.

                “Well.” Edythe spoke quietly, eyeing the pair with utmost curiosity. She seemed like a scientist studying her specimen, waiting for reactions. “Play, then.”

                “Esme said showing off was rude,” Edward said, blasé, but there was something in his eyes that made Bella think he was _thinking_ something different to her.

                “There are exceptions to every rule,” Esme amended.

                “I’d like to hear you play.” Bella agreed.

                “It’s settled, then.” Esme pushed Edward toward the piano. He pulled Bella along,  sitting her on the bench beside him.

                It was an unsettling feeling of nostalgia—like she’d been there before, but this was worlds apart from sitting on the same bench as Beau. There were pictures of them, and vague memories floating in Bella’s head, where they were dressed to the nines sat side-by-side on a piano bench. Nothing as nice as this one, but more obviously worn—loved. Their first (and Bella’s only) piano recital. That had been nerve-wracking, knowing that she was terrible but it made Beau happy to play. This was nothing like that.

                This was peace: watching Edward consider the ivory keys before him, the feel of the extravagant leather bench beneath her. It matched the Cullens’ décor just so. And then his fingers splayed, flowing swiftly across the ivory, and the room was filled with a composition so complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to believe only one set of hands played. Bella felt her chin drop, her mouth open in astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind them at her reaction.

                Edward looked at her casually, the music still surging around them without a break, and winked. “Do you like it?”

                “You wrote this?” Bella gasped, understanding.

                Edward nodded. “It’s Esme’s favorite.”

                Bella closed her eyes and shook her head. He truly _could_ do everything—Beau was talented, but Edward was a prodigy. Not only could he _play_ the piano, he could compose scores only the masters could ever hope to compose.

                “What’s wrong?” Edward’s worried voice murmured, still backed by an awe-inspiring piano accompaniment.

                “I’m feeling extremely…insignificant,” she admitted.

                The music slowed, transforming into something softer. To her surprise, Bella detected the melody of his lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes.

                “You inspired this one,” he said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet.

                She couldn’t speak, so he continued after a moment, the swell of music almost excruciating in its loveliness.

                “They like you, you know.” A pause. “Especially Esme.”

                Bella glanced behind herself, but the huge room was empty now. “Where did they go?”

                “Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose.”

                Bella sighed. “They like me, but Rosalie and Emmett…” she trailed off, unsure how to express her doubts.

                Edward frowned. “Don’t worry about Rosalie,” his eyes were wide and persuasive as he said it. “She’ll come around.”

                She pursed her lips skeptically. “Emmett?”

                “Well, he thinks I’m a lunatic, it’s true, but he doesn’t have a problem with you. He’s trying to reason with Rosalie.”

                “What is it that upsets her?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

                Edward sighed deeply. “Rosalie struggles the most with…with what we are. It’s hard for her to have someone on the outside know the truth. And she’s a little jealous.”

                “Rosalie is jealous of me?” Bella asked, disbelievingly. She wasn’t sure anybody had ever been jealous of her. She tried to imagine a universe where someone as breathtaking as Rosalie would have any possible reason to feel jealous of someone like her.

                “You’re human,” Edward shrugged. “She wishes that she were, too.”

                “Oh,” she muttered, still stunned. “Even Jasper, though…”

                “That’s really my fault,” he said. “I told you he was the most recent to our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance.”

                Bella thought about the reason for that and shuddered.

                “Esme and Carlisle…?” she continued quickly, to keep him from noticing.

                “Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn’t care if you had a third eye and webbed feet—honestly, she wouldn’t care if I had pursued Beau instead of you!” he laughed starkly. “All this time she’s been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing from my essential makeup, that I was too young when Carlisle changed me…she’s ecstatic. Every time I touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction.”

                “What about Edythe?” Bella thought about the way her brother gravitated toward the girl, the slightly older vampire, the only other single Cullen. Did Esme feel the same way about her as she did Edward?

                “Edythe finds you fascinating, I admit,” Edward said quietly. “Perhaps not necessarily _you,_ but _us._ I just haven’t figured out if she thinks we’re a train wreck waiting to happen, or if she thinks we’re destined to be together. I don’t know which she hopes for, either.”

                “I meant,” Bella interrupted, because it seemed like he’d continue. “Is Esme worried for Edythe as well?”

                Edward paused his perusal of the keys to glance at her. Maybe he hadn’t expected the question—maybe he wasn’t prepared to answer it. He gave a half-shrug.

                “I think Edythe worries her less,” he said, after a moment of pondering. “Perhaps because Edythe left behind a life when she left behind…life. Perhaps because Edythe finds comfort in confiding in Esme. I’m unsure.”

                Bella hesitated on the bit of information she’d been given. Edythe had left behind a life when she became a— When she joined the Cullens. She tried to imagine it—tiny, perfect, seventeen year old Edythe. A perfect boyfriend, who in a few years would’ve become her husband. A perfect prospective future.

                Unknowingly there had often been parallels drawn between Edythe and Hattie. They were, in a lot of ways, very similar. They were both small, powerful young women, slight of frame. They were both beautiful (in their own specific ways), talented, with a lot ahead of them. Hattie was about to be seventeen—Edythe was eternally seventeen. They had each left something of them behind to be with their current families. They had pseudo parents, pseudo siblings, secrets they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) share with the world.

                She tried to imagine Hattie in Edythe’s shoes. Dying, laid out in a hospital somewhere where nobody would miss her. The image gave her goosebumps, trying to picture Edythe’s boyfriend coming to search for her—to never find out what happened to her. “A lot of people have died here, son,” she imagined a nurse telling him, in between rounds. “A lot of people, and no families to claim the remains.”

                To hide her unease, she awkwardly said, “Alice seems very…enthusiastic.”

                If he noticed, he didn’t comment. “Alice has her own ways of looking at things,” he said through tight lips.

                “And you’re not going to explain that, are you?” she muttered.

                A moment of wordless communication passed between them. He realized that she knew he was keeping something from her. She realized that he wasn’t going to give anything else away. Not now.

                “So what was Carlisle telling you before?” Bella asked, instead. She could’ve asked about his conversation with Edythe, but sometimes siblings need secrets—and she was still reeling from the image of a gentleman coming searching for his lover, never to find her.

                Edward’s eyebrows pulled together. “You noticed that, did you?”

                She shrugged. “Of course.”

                He looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. “He wanted to tell me some news—he didn’t know if it was something I would share with you.”

                “Will you?”

                “I have to, because I’m going to be a little…overbearingly protective over the next few days—or weeks—and I don’t want you to think I’m naturally a tyrant.”

                “What’s wrong?” she prompted.

                “Nothing’s wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we’re here, and they’re curious.”

                “Visitors?”

                “Yes…well, they aren’t like us, of course—in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won’t come into town at all, but I’m certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they’re gone.”

                Bella shivered.

                “Finally, a rational response!” he murmured. “I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all.”

                She let that one pass, looking away, her eyes wandering again around the spacious room.

                He followed her gaze. “Not what you expected at all, is it?” he asked, his voice smug.

                “No,” she admitted.

                “No coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don’t even think we have cobwebs…what a disappointment this must be for you,” he continued slyly.

                Bella ignored his teasing. “It’s so light…so open.”

                He was more serious when he answered. “It’s the one place we never have to hide.”

                The song he was still playing, her song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. We hear a little bit more about Edythe's backstory, and how she left behind a boyfriend (not that Carlisle could've known that!)   
> This is kind of a blah chapter, one of those in-between pieces. And we skip my favorite Twilight scene! (The one where Alice is like, "It sounded like you were eating Bella so we came to see if you'd share!") but Chapter 15 as a whole is probably one of my favorite Twilight chapters anyways. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up at the end of the week as usual, and it's a Hattie chapter! :) I think some of you are going to like it, but some of you aren't--specifically those who are still wondering why Hattie doesn't know the Cullens are vamps ;) The simple answer of course is because I like the drama of it, but the actual answer is explained in the next chapter <3


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A Hattie chapter at last! :D  
> \- Set during Twilight: 16, but we've skipped that chapter as it's not really necessary to our story. (For those curious, it’s where we learn about Carlisle’s backstory, and later Edward and Bella rendezvous in his room. Alice and Jasper come in to invite them to the baseball game later in the chapter.)  
> \- Jacob’s storytelling follows Twilight: 6 – we’ve long since passed this chapter, but I skimmed over it then because we already knew how Bella found out about the legends.

_But the truth is that nothing distracted me from waiting. The. Time. Simply. Passed. ―[Meg Rosoff](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/93575.Meg_Rosoff)_

_══════_

                Hattie tossed her bag on the back seat of the car Jacob pulled up in, unsure if she was excited or nervous. They were very similar emotions—the same tingling, need-to-move energy in her shoulders, the same bubbly feeling in her gut. The only difference was the expected outcome, the pre-emptive outlook: dread or want, happiness or unhappiness, positivity or negativity.

                She wanted to buy a car. She wanted the freedom that came with not having to ask for a ride, not having to have a companion escort her everywhere.

                She didn’t want the responsibilities she knew needed to fulfill once she had a car. The idea of opening a door long closed to her—entering a world she was not allowed in her own country—was terrifying and exhilarating. The years of fear, of indescribable worry she’d felt—worry not just for her own well-being, but the well-being of all those she cared about. The wonder of, once she’d completed that which she had come here to complete, would she then have to leave?

                Because, back home, her people needed her. There would come a day—maybe soon, maybe years from now—when her allies would call on her to help them fight the good fight. “One day, I’m sure much sooner than either of us want,” Professor had said, that night. How bitterly true that statement had become.

Yet—she was here to learn, to better herself, to eventually aid her people in their bid for freedom. To aid Professor, and McGonagall, and all of her friends.

To aid the people who had raised her in every way that counted. To aid the people who had become her family.

Because that’s what her network was, for better or worse: each of them was a branch of her own chosen family. The Patils, the Diggorys, the Grangers, the Weasleys, the Abbotts, the Longbottoms and the Lovegoods. And more—more distant allies, ones who they only knew were still living because of the small missives sent once in a blue moon ascertaining their welfare. The Thomases, the Finnigans, the Browns, the Macmillans. People she felt fiercely protective of. People she couldn’t speak of. People she would give her life willingly to defend.

One day she would be called to fight with them—to fight for them—to fight for the future of her people. For her culture. For everything she’d ever hoped and dreamed of. One day she would have to leave Forks. One day she would have to leave behind Charlie and Bella and Beau and Jacob, and they wouldn’t be allowed to know she might not make it back. One day she would have to say goodbye knowing that it might be her last time, like Lily and James Potter hugging Charlie goodbye. Only, sixteen years from that goodbye, there would not be a small daughter traveling to Forks to make a new life for herself.

Jacob’s door slamming brought Hattie back from her thoughts to the slightly dreary day before them. She turned to where he’d already started buckling his seatbelt and gave a little smile, trying to ignore the suddenly sour feelings in her chest.

“Where to?” he asked her, looking up from the buckle with bright eyes. Hattie tried to shake her dour thoughts from her head before she responded.

“There’s this car lot not too far away that looks promising,” she hedged, showing him the website on her phone. “I’ve got my eyes on a couple.”

“Sounds good!” Jacob chirped, easing the car into gear and reversing out of the driveway. “Just you and me! I’m really happy you asked me to come along.”

“I’m happy to spend time with you,” Hattie agreed, settling in for the drive. The world outside was a smudge of gray and green, the sky completely overcast but no actual rain falling. The pavement was still drying, though, from the last rainfall; Forks was in a state of perpetual dampness. Hattie sort of liked it. She liked the smell of it.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why did Bella bail?” Jacob asked curiously, merging onto the highway. “I thought she was looking forward to going out with you.”

“She was—but Edward asked her to come meet his family,” Hattie explained. “She was going to turn him down, I think, but I wanted her to have fun with him. She really likes him.”

“Oh.” Jacob’s mouth pressed into an amused smile. “My dad really doesn’t like the Cullens. He’s going to blow a gasket when he hears about it from Charlie.”

“Why doesn’t he like them?” she wondered, trying to picture Billy’s disdain for the family. They were a little odd, but nice enough. If Hattie ignored their strange auras, they were completely normal. Dr. Cullen was the best doctor in the area, if not the entire pacific northwest—and all of his kids were well-behaved and intelligent, which was more than you could say for a lot of Forks residents.

“Because of the stories,” Jacob shrugged, laughing.

“The legends?” Hattie asked bemusedly. She didn’t know _all_ of the Quileute legends—there were many that outsiders weren’t supposed to know, only passed down from family to family and not printed in any books. There weren’t any specific ones that she could think of that pertained to the Cullens, though.

“I told Bella some of them,” he nodded, “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

Hattie shot a look at her boyfriend. She remembered that night at the beach, how frightened Bella had seemed after they left. Her sister was sort of secretive about the whole thing, but Hattie assumed that Jacob had just told her some of the blasé legends anyone could find on their own, and had laughed it off.

“Will you tell me?” she requested, a part of her squirming with jealousy that Bella had gotten to hear legends that Hattie would kill to know.

“Well—there are a lot of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood—supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the Ark.” Jacob grinned a little, but Hattie had already heard this one. Jacob didn’t seem to put much stock into it. “Another legend claims that we descended from wolves—and that the wolves are our brothers still. It’s against tribal law to kill them.”

                “I like that story,” Hattie told him, remembering the boy from the beach with his ghost-like wolf imprint. “I like the idea of having a spirit animal.”

                “Me too,” Jacob admitted. “And then there are the stories about the cold ones.”

                Hattie paused a second. She truly hadn’t heard this legend; her heart beat a little faster, excited. “The cold ones?” she prompted, wondering if this was the story that had spooked Bella so.

                “Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty to keep them off our land.” Jacob rolled his eyes at this.

                “Your great-grandfather?” Hattie prompted, curious at this. “Was he a leader, or something?”

                “He was a tribal elder, like my dad,” Jacob agreed. “You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves.”

                _More like shape-shifters,_ Hattie thought amusedly. She, of course, knew that the Quileute shifters were unlike actual werewolves, who changed with the moon. She’d studied enough about actual werewolves to know the difference between a shift caused by spiritual magic and a shift caused by disease.

                Still, all she said was, “So the cold ones and your ancestors were enemies.”

                “Supposedly. Traditionally, they were our enemies. But this pack that came into our territory during my great-grandfather’s time was different. They didn’t hunt the way that others of their kind did—they weren’t supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn’t expose them to the pale-faces.” Jacob winked at her, make her snicker.

                Hattie frowned. “If they weren’t dangerous, then why…?” she was struggling to see why Bella had been scared, but Jacob misunderstood her question.

                “There’s always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they’re civilized like this clan. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist.” Jacob’s faux storytelling voice was thick as he tried to sound menacing, but they could both hear the undertone of amusement in it.

                “I don’t understand what you mean by ‘civilized,’” Hattie admitted after a moment, trying to work through the legend as he told it.

                “They claimed that they didn’t hunt humans. They somehow were able to prey on animals instead.” Jacob explained it, but even he sounded a little confused—sometimes legends didn’t translate well, didn’t make sense when applied to modern-day “knowledge.”

                But Hattie did feel a little thrill of fear as he said it. The name _cold-ones_ clicked with _hunt humans,_ and painted her a vision of the only vampire she’d ever met. His name was Sanguini—Professor Slughorn had introduced her to him, one day when she and Professor were visiting. He was tall, and lanky, and tired-looking, with dark circles painted under his red eyes. He was incredibly handsome, but he looked like he was starving, and when they shook hands (Professor hovering rigidly nearby) his had been ice-cold.

                But the fear passed as quickly as it had come, melting away into nothingness. Vampires were nothing. Even if the Quileutes had once had problems with vampires, obviously there wasn’t trouble any longer—and even if there was, Hattie knew how to fight them.

                “So, how does that fit in with the Cullens?” Hattie asked, curious but almost bored. “Does Billy think they are like the cold ones your great-grandfather met, or something?”

                “No,” Jacob paused, almost embarrassed. “He thinks they’re the same ones.”

                Hattie paused. She was joking—she really hadn’t thought Billy could believe the Cullens were vampires. But apparently he did.

In her mind, she tried to coalesce the Cullens with the image of Sanguini and all she knew about vampires from textbooks she’d read. There were similarities, for sure: tired-looking, pale, unearthly beautiful. Dr. Cullen’s hands _had_ been cold, but Hattie assumed that was because all doctors had cold hands. But the images just didn’t mesh. From what she knew about vampires, they were strong and fast and deadly. They couldn’t live amongst humans—certainly they couldn’t be _doctors._ They could barely live amongst wizards, who, from what Hattie understood, didn’t smell like food to them. They had red or black eyes, and their skin was paper-thin and translucent. The Cullens radiated with health—and certainly their eyes were _not_ red.

If only she could remember what Sanguini’s aura had felt like—it’d been many years since she met him, and she’d only been around him for a short time. The only thing that didn’t immediately make her discard the thought of the Cullens being otherworldly was their strange aura. But even that didn’t phase her too much; she was beginning to learn that many people had weird auras. All of the Quileutes she’d met radiated a strange aura, too.

So Hattie shook her head and chuckled, and Jacob started laughing too. “That is absurd.”

                “I know—my dad’s strange. But you haven’t even asked what he thinks the Cullens are.” Jacob prompted, obviously trying to bait Hattie. He wanted to try to scare her still, even though they both knew she thought it was silly.

                “I do not have to—obviously he thinks they are vampires,” Hattie explained, her finger in the air. “I can read subtext clues.”

                “You’re quicker than Bella was,” Jacob snorted. “And way less freaked.”

                “What can I say? Clearly I am superior,” Hattie joked.

                 As they settled into another conversation, Hattie filed away her feelings. The Cullens weren’t anything like her textbooks had described, and they certainly weren’t like Sanguini. Still, somehow, as she pushed the thought to the back of her head, it niggled at her. It was with unease in her heart that she resolved herself to contacting Professor with questions about vampires soon.

—x—

                Car shopping with Jacob was—fun? He had a lot of opinions, but luckily they were informed opinions. He would tell her, “This car is known for this issue,” or “They don’t make that car anymore due to this reason,” and they would move on. Another thing he was excellent at was peeking under hoods and foreseeing future repairs. “This is a major issue that will cost a lot of money,” he’d say. Or, “This is minor maintenance that a lot of cars need.”

                Hattie didn’t understand most of the lingo—she wasn’t that interested in learning it, either, except that Jacob seemed pretty passionate about it. It just wasn’t her forte. There were a lot of people a lot better at repairing vehicles than she could ever hope to be.

                It made her appreciate the methods wizards used to travel, honestly. Apparation was so very handy—and, contrary to popular belief, it didn’t leave that much of a magical signature behind. It was easy to use and hard to track…perfect for wizards in hiding.

                Port-keys had fallen out of style in the last couple of decades for almost the opposite reason. They used a lot of magic—part of the reason they were good at transporting many wizards at once. But anything that used a lot of magic also attracted attention. Another issue was that port-keys were difficult to make; in the past, the Ministry had been responsible for creating and regulating them.

                And then there was the Floo Network—something Hattie had only dreamed of using. To this day Severus kept a pot of greenish powder above his mantle, stale and clumpier now than it should be. Even as a child Hattie had been warned never to touch it, though the temptation at times had been great. But as with many things, it had been drilled into her head as A Very Dangerous Thing. One sprinkle of Floo powder in the fireplace would be enough for the regime to track them down—no, it was less an exercise of willpower and more an exercise of denying herself. No matter how much she wanted something, she would never endanger those she loved.

                So alas: here she was, signing the deed to a two-ton metal killing machine.

Mostly Jacob had picked it. She loved it, of course—Hattie wouldn’t spend thousands of dollars on anything that she didn’t love or need. But he had done most of the work. They’d wandered around the car lot time and time again looking for something _perfect._ At each car she showed interest in, he posed her just so, stepping back and taking in the scene from afar. He’d put a great thinking face on, placing his chin in the crook between his index finger and thumb. Sometimes, he’d shake his head, not being able to picture her driving the car. Other times he’d nod resolutely to himself and they’d begin inspecting the vehicle.

Hattie doubted his methods. But, in the end, they’d worked: she and the smarmy salesman (who preferred to look over her head to make eye contact with Jacob and pretended she wasn’t there most of the time) came to an agreement on price, and she made a large down payment using the cash she’d withdrawn specifically for this trip. In the end she could’ve paid for it flat-out, but it seemed more normal to have a monthly payment.

And she kind of didn’t want Jacob to know she was rich, yet. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

“I like it,” Hattie told Jacob quietly, once they were outside with the keys. She stood next to her new car and smiled in wonder, touching it—the sparkly blue metal was cool under her touch in the March weather. “It’s big.”

“It is big,” Jacob huffed out a laugh, crossing his arms. “You look tiny next to it.”

It was an SUV—much bigger than her compact little hatchback had been, but a very similar color. Indeed, Hattie felt tiny next to it, but driving it had made her feel powerful.

“Take a picture of me, will you?” she asked Jacob, handing over her phone. He stepped back and took a picture as she lounged against the vehicle, grinning so wide she felt she would burst.

Then the salesman came back out and offered to take a picture of them both. Hattie wasn’t sure if he was confused on the situation—if he thought they were paramours, or a young couple buying a car together, or if he was just being nice. But they posed happily together, Jacob wrapping his arm around her and holding her close.

It would end up being one of her favorite pictures: herself, wrapped in Jacob’s toned brown arm, huddled close together against the bright blue of her new car. They were backlit by the sun, which glinted off the surface of the SUV and danced in her hair and Jacob’s eyes. They looked beautiful together, and happier than anyone had the right to be, their white smiles luminous in the afternoon sun.

Later, she wished that she could stay in that happy moment forever. At peace, worry-free, held in the arms of the boy she knew she was falling in love with. With all of the turmoil and uncertainty that came in the months following, she would hold tight to that picture and remember his laughter as he posed her against different, ostentatious cars they both knew she’d never buy—she’d remember the way she felt in that perfect moment captured by a smooth-talking salesman in the parking lot of a car dealership.

You often don’t know in the moment that a memory will be the one that gets you through your troubled times. Most of the time the moments aren’t anywhere glamorous—you can’t predict them—they’re not preceded by or followed with anything particularly special. The most genuine memories are spontaneous slips of time you never planned for. But that was what made them perfect.

In that photo, they were Hattie Swan and Jacob Black. Outside that small rectangle of glossy paper there were many convoluted plots stirring, many strings of responsibility holding them back, tying them to this and that. Inside the frame, in the still happiness, with the March sun trying desperately to break through the clouds, they were just two teenagers falling in love.

She would need that image.

—x—

Hattie and Jacob parted ways with a huge, sloppy kiss that left them both laughing. He had to drive the borrowed car back to the reservation and check on Billy—he offered for her to follow him home to hang out more, but she declined politely. She was eager to get back home, and also she didn’t want to intrude on his time with Billy.

Honestly though, she wished that she’d accepted his invitation: time alone, trapped in her own head, was often spent worrying. Worrying about the future, about people she cared about, and she was sure she’d worry about this vampire thing now too. If there was one thing Hattie was good at, it was overthinking. One thought would lead into another and another until it all spiraled out of control.

But Jacob just nodded his head in acceptance, grinning. “Drive carefully, okay Hattie? Do you know how to get home?”

“Um…no,” Hattie admitted shamefacedly. “I can put my GPS on, though.”

“Just follow me,” Jacob suggested. “Stick behind me and take the Forks exit when you see it.”

Hattie climbed into her monster of a car after saying her goodbyes, shutting the door gently behind herself and starting the engine. It was blessed silence compared to Bella and Beau’s truck. The stereo clicked on quietly, left by whoever had owned it before her, and she turned it off. Even the heat came on, a low purr in the background.

The car smelled of a flowery perfume, no doubt due to the air freshener hanging from the mirror, but it wasn’t unpleasant. She put the car into gear and eased out after Jacob, trying not to let the silence drag her into her own thoughts.

But it was very, very hard.

There was something like a signal in Hattie’s brain, giving her all the facts she didn’t want to know. It’d been five days since Severus called her in Port Angeles, and four since Moony sent her the letter. She knew they were busy—she had refrained from contacting them herself due to worry she’d catch them in the middle of something dangerous, something important, and get them hurt. Or worse. But it was still hard for her to ignore the lack of communication, especially given it’d been weeks since she was informed about her other friends’ well-being. There was only that one set of letters shortly after Beau and Bella had arrived, which she’d secretly kept. Neville’s, in particular, was worn and wrinkled from the amount of times she’d folded and unfolded it, reading the words:

_Never let your guard down, not even for happiness, not even for the slightest second. Hattie, I miss you._

The letter didn’t bring her comfort so much as a longing nostalgia and a clawing, disgusting, relentless hope for better days. Still, as his letter said, it was a reminder—one she often needed. A reminder to never take things for granted and to never fall into complacency.

The other that she read sometimes was Severus’, taking comfort in his words: _As always, be diligent. I will contact you if anything changes._ After long hours worrying, sometimes the only way she could fall asleep was to whisper those words, a chant, as if to hypnotize herself—“I will contact you if anything changes. I will contact you if anything changes. I will contact you if anything changes.”

                But even knowing that there were reasons for the silence (as Severus’ letter said, “the answer is simply time,”) was not enough to make Hattie stop aching for it. She would constantly look at her phone, waiting for a call to ring through. Sometimes she opened up her short contact list and brought up Severus’ number, ready to dial, but could never bring herself to do it. (“As always, be diligent.”) The golden galleon that was charmed to be used for communication was always in her pocket, but it never burned with the tell-tale signs of a missive. Her two-way mirror was gathering dust under her pillow. And, though she’d prayed each day for it, dressing carefully in clothing with pockets, she never received a letter.

                It was at once infuriating and disheartening to be kept so far in the dark, even if it was for her own safety and the safety of those around her.

                She knew the reasons.

                She knew that if she made one mistake she could ruin everything. Every carefully laid plan, over a decade of work. She knew that Lily and James Potter had defied the regime one too many times and they’d do anything to slaughter her in her tracks, if they found her. She knew that all of her allies committed treason every day simply by living, and were considered traitors to the regime they were forced to hide from. She knew she could lose everything. But often she found her isolation more terrifying than being in the thick of things, more terrifying than having to monitor how much magic she used, how often she used it. Some days she would give anything to go back to hiding in Severus’ study, watching her words, not making eye contact with the strangers on the street.

                But this was where she had to be, for now. She told herself this time and time again, a bitter burning in the back of her throat: this was who she had to be until the time came. Until Severus called on her. Until then—she was Hattie Swan.

—x—

                It was still pretty early when she got home. The sun hadn’t yet begun its descent, hidden behind the clouds. Once she got into Forks proper, it began drizzling lightly, finally swallowing the sun. It was as if the sky was feeling the same sort of melancholy as Hattie had forced herself into, which was just as well, because she walked into a stalemate at the Swan residence.

                She pulled up as Edward’s Volvo was pulling out, blinking at an unknown vehicle in their driveway. There was barely room for her to pull past it and park, up by the truck in front of the garage. As she pulled in the driveway, she got an eyeful of the stalemate on the porch.

                It took a moment for Hattie’s brain to make sense of what she was seeing, even though it wasn’t in and of itself extraordinary. There was Bella, on one side of the porch, wearing the world’s sourest expression. On the other side of the porch was Billy, a deep frown set onto his face, his wheelchair being pushed by a boy from the tribe that Hattie hadn’t met yet. The boy was doing his best to seem invisible, though he was much too large for that. Whatever conversation Bella and Billy were having was clearly unpleasant: whenever either one of them spoke, it was with large hand gestures, even though their voices must’ve been quite low.

                What Hattie didn’t understand was why Billy was on their front porch to begin with. Jacob was making his way toward La Push, literally as they spoke, in order to check in on his father.

                As she opened her door to step into what she desperately hoped was not a budding argument, the image of Edward’s Volvo squealing out of the driveway flashed through her mind and Hattie suddenly knew _exactly_ what was going on. Billy had come to warn Bella away from the Cullens, due to his superstitions.

                (Superstitions that may or may not be plausible. Hattie would have to come back to that one.)

                “Hi, Billy,” she called hesitatingly as she approached the porch, eying the situation before her. “Everything okay? Jacob’s just on his way back to the house now.”

                Billy nodded slowly as Hattie climbed up the steps. “Everything’s just fine, Hattie.”

                Though she didn’t really want to, Hattie went to stand beside her sister. The size of the porch meant that if she stood between the groups, she’d literally be blocking their view of each other—but she was worried that standing on either side might seem like she was _taking_ sides. As if to prove her point, Bella’s stance relaxed considerably once she’d taken her place by the girl’s side.

                “Neither of you look very happy,” Hattie hedged. She wasn’t sure how to play mediator on this one. She glanced at Bella, hoping for some indication of what her sister needed from her—any signal of how far to push. Sometimes Hattie knew exactly what Bella wanted her to do without even glancing at her, but this time she was at a loss.

                But Bella herself wasn’t very helpful, not meeting Hattie’s eye. “Billy brought by some of Harry’s fish fry for Charlie.”

                Hattie thought about making a sarcastic comment— _oh, so you were arguing about the best way to fry a fish—_ but thought better of it. That was the Severus in her, but she knew it’d only cause issues. Instead she nodded slowly. “We appreciate it, Billy.”

                “We should go,” Billy intoned, hardly looking at Hattie. “Bella—make sure to tell Charlie. That we stopped by, I mean.”

                “Of course.” Bella muttered.

                Hattie glanced at the boy with Billy. He was older than them, which was probably part of the reason Hattie hadn’t met him yet. “Do you need help getting Billy to the car?”

                “We’ll be fine,” Billy insisted. “Go inside, now, Hattie. Stay safe.”

                With that, the boy and Billy departed. Even after she went inside, following a silent Bella, Hattie watched them out the window, a frown marring her face. The boy helped Billy into the car and folded the wheelchair like a pro. It wasn’t until they finally pulled out of the driveway that Hattie turned her gaze onto Bella.

                “Seriously—what was that about?” Hattie asked, softly. She wasn’t sure where Beau was, but if he wasn’t a part of this, she didn’t want to bring him into it.

                Bella must’ve had the same idea, because she looked at the ceiling cautiously. After a beat of silence, her sister whispered, “Billy is just superstitious. He really doesn’t like the Cullens. He wanted to warn me off of dating Edward.”

                Hattie rolled her eyes. “He seriously came all this way because of a legend?”

                “You’ve heard it?” Bella questioned tightly, eying Hattie. There was a hard, serious gaze in her eyes that made Hattie pause.

                “Of course I have.” _Just today. But, perhaps you don’t need to know that._

“And—what do you think about…the legend?” Bella asked, hesitating a bit in the middle.

                Hattie met Bella’s eyes, wondering what the correct answer here was. The truth was, Hattie didn’t know what to think about the legend. She knew with certainty that some of the Quileutes’ stories were true. She knew that vampires were real. But just because the stories sometimes contained grains of truth, did not necessarily mean all of the Quileutes’ stories were truthful.

                It was hard to believe that the Cullens were vampires. She could believe that the Quileute tribe had encountered vampires in the past, but there were too many deciding factors against the _Cullens_ being vampires. Though—if there _was_ a vampire problem, and the Cullens _were_ those vampires, it’d make everything a lot easier, since the Cullens seemed like good people.

                But Bella had been spooked by those stories, stories of vampires and werewolves. Hattie didn’t want a story to come between Bella and her new boyfriend, and the truth was that she really thought Billy was just being superstitious.

                And even if he was right, and the Cullens _were_ vampires, Hattie didn’t think there was anything to worry about there.  

                So that’s what she told Bella. “I just think they’re stories, Bella. Billy’s a superstitious old man.”

                Bella’s shoulders relaxed a little bit and she nodded resolutely. “Yeah—you’re right. That’s what I think, too.”

                If only they knew that they were both lying to protect each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is! A seed is planted! I know some of you are/were disappointed that Hattie didn't immediately find out the Cullens were vampires, but I think it's way less fun that way :P Also, I sort of wanted a nice chunk of time to pass before any secrets come out... since the major motif in this story is, of course, secrets!
> 
> I am excited though because these next few chapters are gonna ramp it up. Here's what you can expect in the next 5 chapters:  
> \- A City of Bones reference  
> \- A very important message  
> \- Some of the Twilight climax  
> \- A reunion  
> \- the introduction of some important side-characters (OCs and not)  
> \- An awesome place called New Lummi and the Lycan's Thorn  
> \- ANGST!   
> \- Some animagus stuff
> 
> And from the 5 after that:  
> \- The Twilight climax  
> \- Prom  
> \- The Lost Months between the end of Twilight (May 2005) and the beginning of New Moon (September 2005)  
> \- Hattie's 17th Birthday!  
> \- Bella and Beau's 18th Birthday!
> 
> Hope you guys look forward to it :) I'm really excited to be posting these chapters, I can't believe I've posted this many already! I'm so far in! Hattie's story is going to kick off soon! It's crazy!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Set during Twilight: 17  
> (eta: Mortal Instruments / Shadowhunter Chronicles reference in here! Got so excited to post that I forgot to say :o ) 
> 
> Another chapter so quickly because I had a breakthrough on a big plot point for Hattie's story in New Moon and I got excited! :D

_Nothing was the same after that night. Nothing. —Maggie Stiefvater_

_══════_

                Dinner was an unusually quiet affair that night. Since the Swans had come home to Charlie, there had never been a night when someone wasn’t joking or laughing—or at least chatting—at the dinner table. But tonight it was quiet, Hattie and Bella both stewing in their own emotions. Beau was looking between both girls with a mixture of curiosity and confusion written plain on his face, and Charlie seemed just plain worried.

                Hattie broke the silence after a while, her earlier excitement over buying her new car bubbling back up inside of her. “Uncle Charlie, did you see my car?”

                The words seemed to light Charlie up, though he said cautiously, “Yeah, I did. You did good, Hattie.”

                “It’s beautiful,” added Beau. “I only saw it from the window, though.”

                “Yeah, Jacob and I spent all afternoon at the dealership. It was fun, though,” Hattie grinned. “He even looked under the hood for me before I signed anything.”

                “That’s a good man,” Charlie grunted. “I thought Bella was supposed to go with you?”

                “Well—,” Hattie started, seeing Bella’s head lift at the sound of her name. “No, she stayed behind—I wanted to spend some time with Jacob. Since he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

                This was not news to Charlie; Hattie had barged into the house the night before bursting at the seams with happiness. There was no hiding it. Still, he didn’t look super thrilled, even if he liked Jacob. He seemed a little awkward as he changed the subject.

                “What’d you do today, Bells?”

                Bella flushed a little. “Well—this afternoon I just hung around the house,” she started, hesitatingly. Hattie (and Beau) both looked at her curiously, both wondering if she was going to lie. Then, “And this morning, I was over at the Cullens’.”

                Hattie felt proud of her sister. She knew Bella was reluctant to talk to Charlie about boys, and with good reason, but Charlie was a good father. Even if he tended to be on the protective side, he wanted his kids to be happy in life. Perhaps it was because Hattie was affection-starved, but she had rarely hid anything from Charlie. And she’d never regretted being open, either.

                “Dr. Cullen’s place?” Charlie asked, in astonishment.

                “Yeah,” Bella muttered, averting her gaze.

                “What were you doing there?” Charlie demanded. He set his fork on his plate, staring at the side of Bella’s head. Hattie glanced at Beau, wondering if they were going to have to run interception.

                “Well, I sort of have a date with Edward Cullen tonight, and he wanted to introduce me to his parents…Dad?”

                All three of them turned to look at Charlie. To Hattie, it appeared that the older man was having an aneurysm. He didn’t seem to notice them all looking at him, however.

                “Dad, are you alright?” Beau asked, gently.

                “Which one’s Edwin?” Charlie demanded, almost angrily.

                “Edward,” they all corrected, in varying volumes.

                “Edward, then—which one’s Edward?”

                Bella sighed. “Edward’s the youngest, the one with reddish-brown hair. You met him yesterday.”

                Charlie hesitated, obviously trying to think things through all the way. “And is this Edward your boyfriend?”

                “Sort of, I guess,” Bella mumbled.

                “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday? Hattie told me yesterday!” Charlie grumbled.

                Hattie fidgeted under the look her sister gave her, which was both parts annoyance and resignation. Beau seemed amused at the situation, and said nothing.

                “Well—I’m not Hattie,” Bella said. “And I didn’t know yesterday. We decided today. That’s why I didn’t go with Hattie. She was just trying to be nice and not get me into any trouble.”

                Charlie doubled around on Hattie, whose affection for Bella went out the window a little bit. “Hattie?”

                “Well—!” Hattie squeaked. “I did not know what she wanted to tell you! It was not my place. And, it was not a lie either!”

                “Aw, dad—let the girls have their secrets,” Beau intercepted. “Sometimes girls tell each other things they wouldn’t tell guys.”

                Charlie glanced briefly at each of them in turn, then threw his hands up (a bit dramatically, in Hattie’s opinion). “Women!” he grumped. “You two are gonna be the death ‘a me.” But the heat was missing from his words, so Hattie relaxed in her chair and spared Bella a tiny grin.

                The quartet finished eating their dinner in silence, each more than happy to let the conversation drop for a while. Hattie had just begun clearing the table, handing the dishes off to Beau to be washed, when she heard the roar of an unknown engine.

                The doorbell rang shortly afterward. Charlie stalked off to answer it—Hattie and Beau both glanced up interestedly, watching Bella following.

                “Think he’s gonna try to intimidate him?” Beau asked lowly, turning back to the dishes. Hattie popped a lid on the container of leftovers she was handling, shrugging.

                “I don’t know, Charlie is weird sometimes,” she admitted. “I don’t know if it’s because it’s Bella, or if it’s because it’s Edward.”

                “True.” Beau was quiet for a second, and only the sloshing sound of the dishwater could be heard. Then, “You know it’s because it’s Edward, right?”

                Hattie hesitated in her response. She wanted to believe that. There was some part of her that knew that Charlie loved her just as much as he loved his biological children. Somewhere inside of herself she knew that his anger and protectiveness had stemmed from the fact that Bella was dating Edward, a boy he’d hardly met before—and not because Bella was _dating._ She knew that he was easier on herself and Jacob because he knew and trusted Jacob.

                But still there was some inkling of doubt inside her brain, one leftover from years of being the unwanted child, the child who was only a tool to gain popularity. The doubt whispered, _you don’t matter to him. That’s why he doesn’t care that you’re dating._

                “Charlie loves you,” Beau murmured. Hattie glanced up from the floor to see her brother staring at her, concern written plainly on his face. “We all love you, Hattie.”

                She opened her mouth, but couldn’t respond before Charlie, Bella, and Edward were heading back in. Maybe it was for the best; she didn’t have to lie, or come across as wounded, or pretend to be something she wasn’t. But Beau was still giving her that same concerned look even as Charlie and Edward chatted.

                “Ugh,” Bella grumbled, sidling up next to Hattie and Beau. It made Hattie feel kind of warm inside, imagining the three of them leaning against the kitchen counter together, brothers and sisters in arms. Sometimes, it was easy to forget she hadn’t always been with the Swans.

                “What’re you two gonna do?” Beau asked. The three of them watched Charlie and Edward as if they were a riveting TV show.

                “We’re—we’re going to play baseball,” Bella admitted, her tone still pretty grumbly.

                Beau nearly dropped the dish towel he was still holding, and Hattie let out a stark laugh. Bella shoved the duo, rolling her eyes. Obviously she then made up her mind that it was time to leave, because she went to corral Edward.

                “Enough humor at my expense,” Bella announced, putting her hand on Edward’s arm. “Let’s go.”

                “Not too late, Bell,” Charlie called, as the two headed for the door.

                “Don’t worry—I’ll have her home early,” Edward promised.

                “You take care of my girl, alright?”

                Bella groaned, but both men standing near her either didn’t hear it or ignored it. Hattie smiled to herself and turned back to help Beau with the cleaning up.

                “She’ll be safe with me, I promise, sir,” she heard Edward say, and then they were out of earshot, out the door.

—x—

                The downpour had turned into a slight mist between the time that Bella had left and the time that Hattie exited the house. She took the three steps between the back door and the garage door quickly, her bare feet seeming to hardly touch the ground as she landed inside the garage. She paused there to take a quick breath and dance in place, drying her icy toes on the carpet inside the door.

                That’s when she felt it.

                It was something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time; a burning feeling against her thigh, deep in her pocket. It didn’t hurt, but as her hand wandered to press against the spot, it took her mind way too long to understand what was happening. She stared blankly ahead of herself, her hand lingering on the outside of her pocket, trying to process.

                It was her protean galleon.

                There were several of them floating around in the world. Some were buried with allies long since gone—like Cedric, whose body had never been recovered—never to be used again. They’d been charmed to say AVE ATQUE VALE, permanently. Some rested with people who never used them for fear of being found out, like the Weasleys. Each branch of their alliance had a coin…McGonagall, Hermione, the Lovegoods, the Longbottoms, the Thomases, the Finnigans, the Patils.

                They could be used to send a message to all coins linked together, or they could be used to send a message to a coin with a certain serial number. But everybody knew to only use them if they absolutely had to—they were not for chatting, they were for important messages.

                The serial number on Hattie’s coin was _678._ When Professor sent her a message, it would get slightly warm to the touch, almost unnoticeably so.

                But this was _burning._ This was hot, as if tens of messages were being sent at the same time. This only happened when a missive went out to everybody, though she couldn’t remember the last time that had even happened. Maybe the invitation to Cecelia’s celebration of life? Even when Cedric had died, they hadn’t used the coin, too fearful of the consequences should they fall into the wrong hands.

                All of this ran through Hattie’s mind in the thirty seconds it took for her to gain control over her body again. Then she fumbled recklessly for her pocket, trying to snatch the coin out as quickly as she could, struggling in her fervor. She finally wrapped her hand around it and pulled it out, but the tremors that ran through her body caused her to drop it. It hit the ground with the solid twanging noise of metal on wood, rolled until it hit the wall, and fell over.

                Hattie collapsed onto the bottom step, her heart beating ferociously in her chest. A shaking hand reached out to scoop up the large coin and she pulled it close to her, almost not wanting to read it. She ran her fingers blindly over the inscriptions. The familiar engraving of _PROF: YOU HAVE 2 DAYS. H._ that she’d run her thumb over every hour for the last five days was missing now. There was a new message, just three words.

                She flipped the coin over, zeroing in on the words that would change everything.

_MINISTRY HAS FALLEN._

                A strangled scream caught in Hattie’s throat as she allowed the coin to fall to the ground, clapping her hands over her mouth. Excitement and anxiety and disgusting, cloying _hope_ warred for space in her gut, and worry, and confusion. It’d only been a few days since Professor informed her of the plan to take the Ministry. It’d been so fast. She didn’t understand how that was possible.

                She stood, barely taking the time to scoop the galleon back up off the floor before she staggered up the stairs. She couldn’t walk straight, drunk with the emotions running through her, almost bouncing between the narrow walls of the stairwell.

                Finally she made it to her room, throwing herself into the chair across from her desk. She scrambled for the first piece of paper she could find, knocking things off the desk in her haste, and was searching for a pen when she heard it.

                It was a muffled noise that made her heart stop. The feeling of _I know I am alone, I know I should not be hearing noises._ There were goosebumps on her arms and an icy prickle down her back as she paused, straining her ears like a dog to listen.

                It came again. This time—slightly clearer. “Hattie.”

                Hattie stood from her desk, turning slowly to face her bed. Her heart was beating hard as she approached her bed and dug beneath the pillows. Her hand wrapped around the ornate handle and tugged it out, flipping it face up.

                “Hattie!” the voice, free from the pillows, called again. The mirror was flashing sporadically, and she knew she needed to say something for the mirrors to connect, but she found her voice was caught in her throat.

                The voice was not Professor’s.

                The voice should not be coming from the mirror at all. Nobody knew of its existence, save Hattie and Severus. The only way he would have given up that secret was—no. No, she would know it.

                She couldn’t answer at first, the sickening dread that fell to the pit of her stomach bringing her to her knees. Vaguely she felt out of control, as if the world was moving around her yet she was sat in place on the ground, still in her budding grief. The muscle holding her magic within herself buckled, already weak with the frivolities she’d allowed herself recently, and began brewing and stirring the air around her.

                This couldn’t be happening. Her thoughts from all those days ago filtered back through her mind—he couldn’t be dead. Let him be anything else. Let him be captive, prisoner of the regime. Let him be maimed, let him be sick, let him be missing. Let him be weak. Let him tell all of her secrets. These were all things she could save him from.

                “Hattie!” the voice nearly shouted, sounding frustrated and fearful.

                Hattie was emotionless, monotone as she answered. “This is Hattie.”

                The mirror finally connected. The flashing lights subsided, fading out into a picture of a room she didn’t recognize. It was dark, the paneling on the walls nearly black, and the curtains were drawn. It was the middle of the night in the UK, and the face staring back at her was haggard and tired.

                He was younger-looking than she’d expected, but the bags beneath his eyes made him seem older. She knew he was only 36. There were fewer scars on his face, and the ones that were there made him look dangerous—yet there were few enough of them that it lent toward a somehow handsome expression. His honey gold hair stuck up everywhere, caked with dirt and blood, but he seemed uninjured, his blue eyes staring, shocked.

                “I was—worried—” he choked, eyes roaming over the image in front of him.

                “Where is he?” Hattie demanded. Her voice didn’t sound like her own—it was rougher, almost angry. A wind seemed to pick up around her.

                “He’s not here—”

                “ _Where is he?_ ” she repeated, her voice a shout that was swallowed up by the torrents of wind her magic was whipping up.

                Remus Lupin stared back at her with surprise. Maybe he was just now taking in the background, the way the wind ripped at the curtains, the bedding, the way it flung her grimoires and her books. Maybe there was something written on her face that told him she was not to be trifled with. Maybe it told him she was dangerous, that she was powerful, that she was a force to be reckoned with. Or maybe he saw a damaged, broken little girl begging for news of her father-figure.

                Whatever it was, he set his shoulders and nodded. “Severus is seeing to the injured,” he began. “He sent me here to contact you.”

                The wind in the background stuttered, and kicked back up again. “He would never give up our secrets unless there was no other choice.”

                “He sustained only minor injuries,” Remus said gently. “They were healed quickly.”

                Tears blurred Hattie’s vision as the wind finally came to a stop, her magic coiling about her restlessly in the absence of anything to do. Mindlessly, she allowed it to begin setting the room to rights, picking up the mess she’d created.

                “I want to speak to him,” she told Remus. “I’ll only speak to him.”

                “Hattie—he’s busy,” Remus told her, his words hard. “It’s important.”

                “Why did he tell you about the mirror?”

                “It’s my mirror,” Remus finally said, after a moment. “It was never his.”

                “You’re lying,” Hattie whispered, but she felt the truth of it in her soul. It was such a strange thing for Severus to have, such beautiful ornate mirrors. He’d told her they were expensive, priceless artifacts, but he’d never had that much money to spare.

                “You’re right, this one is actually Sirius’,” Remus nodded, a sad smile playing at his lips. “You have mine. The purple flowers are wolfsbane—aconite.”

                Hattie fingered some of the beautiful purple flowers she’d always adored. The mirror was heavy, porcelain, inlaid with white gold or platinum hardware, and hand-painted purple flowers dripped down the handle. And Remus was right, she realized, thinking back to her herbology books; they _were_ aconite.

                “What’s going on?” Hattie asked, her voice quieter now. “Why are you contacting me now, after all these months?”

                “We took the Ministry,” Remus said, as if that explained everything.

                “I know,” Hattie said. “I got the message.”

                A look of surprise crossed his face, and then he cleared it. Some part of her was happy that he didn’t seem to know about the coins, even if she liked the man. She liked _Moony._ Her godfather’s partner. The man who had reached out to her, sent her things nobody else had been able to offer her.

                All at once the anger drained out of her. She tucked herself back against the side of her bed, curling into a small ball. There was so much _feeling_ running through her body, so many pent-up emotions she couldn’t share with anyone. For months she’d wished she wasn’t so isolated, for months she’d felt in the dark, her worry and panic and fear mounting until she was so full of it that it threatened to spill over. But here was Moony—here was a lifeline thrown to her, and she was taking out her frustrations on him.

                “Why now?” Hattie asked again, more gently. Moony’s eyes softened, seeming to see the change in her.

                “We ripped down the wards,” Moony explained softly. “Bill Weasley and his team did. Everyone is free to come and go as they please now. And we’re working on reuniting the Ministry staff, there’s plenty of them within the Order. But next is the hard part. With us taking the Ministry, the entirety of the regime has retreated to Hogwarts. We’re at a stalemate. They didn’t expect us to be this powerful.”

                “When you oppress a people for twenty years, their discontent breeds power,” Hattie pointed out. This was something she felt strongly about. “And the longer you oppress them the more comfortable you grow being the oppressor, but the more comfortable you get the easier it is to dethrone you.”

                “Exactly,” Moony gave a crooked grin that made him seem ten years younger. “And we are in no way a minority, Hattie. I hope you know that. The regime is the minority. But they are a very, very powerful minority.”

                “We’re stronger,” Hattie said confidently. “They forced us to be strong.”

                “I like your message, but I don’t know if you’re right,” Remus admitted. “I hope you’re right.”

                “I am right.” Hattie responded, with no room for argument. “My people—my generation—we were forced to learn from childhood how to be strong without the crutch of a wand. The regime thought they were weakening us, suffocating our magic, but they were wrong. They were making us stronger, giving us more to fight for than we ever had before. And in the end we will be their downfall. We will take back our culture.”

                The power behind her words, the feeling in her voice, stunned Moony. He straightened his shoulders out and gave a curt, militant nod. “You are going to be a powerful leader, when the time comes.”

                “Tell me what I need to do,” Hattie begged. “Tell me why you are contacting me.”

                “We are at a stalemate,” Remus repeated. “Until one of us feels confident, neither will make a move. Our people,” his lips quirked as he used her words, “need to recover from today’s victory. It was close. We lost good people. We cannot take Hogwarts as we are. Thanks to Severus, we have troops from many countries who will follow us into battle when the time comes. But there’s—extenuating circumstances. No matter what we do, until we can take out the regime, even if we capture all of their territories, we will never be free.”

                “So tell me what to do,” Hattie asked again. “I don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

                “Severus has decided to send _you_ troops. I don’t—I don’t know the extent of it, Hattie. You’ll have to wait for contact from him. But he’s arranged for you to meet them in New Lummi, the wizarding settlement in Seattle. There are contacts he’s set up for you in Seattle, and your troops will be able to give you more information.”

                “Troops? Contacts? Moony, I need to know what’s going on.”

                “I wish I could tell you,” Remus sighed. “He only told me this: you need to be in Seattle tomorrow morning. As early as you can get there. The troops will meet you outside of New Lummi. Severus will contact you with more information as soon as he is able.”

                “ _Tomorrow?_ ” Hattie demanded. Something like lead sunk in her stomach.

                “Is that an issue?” Remus asked, with only mild curiosity. They both knew there was no backing out, everything was already set up. “It’s only a daytrip.”

                “N-no,” Hattie lied. “It’s just a surprise. All these months of waiting, and now…”

                She thought of Charlie, Bella, and Beau. What they would think if she disappeared. What lie she would have to tell them to get them to believe her. She thought of Jacob, the bond she’d formed with him. Even if this was only a temporary foray back into her world, eventually it would be permanent. Eventually there would come a time when the trip was one-way, and she would have to fight for her life and the culture of her people.

                Why did she allow herself to become close to people here? It would be easier for everyone involved if she had stayed an outsider.

                “I know it’s short notice,” soothed Remus, not understanding her inner-turmoil. “But it’s the best I could do for you, Hattie. Please understand that.”

                “I do,” Hattie sighed, and her words were truthful. “I really do.”

                “Listen—Hattie—there are still things you don’t know. Things about the war we still have to tell you. But it’s still not safe. It’s something we’ll have to do in person.” He glanced over the top of the mirror, to something she couldn’t see in the background. “I have to go now—I still need to see a healer myself. But of all the uncertainty of the next few months while we figure everything out, there is good news to be had. The regime no longer controls the ministry, so they have no way of tracking magic any longer.”

                Hattie gasped as the words sank in. The regime had always controlled magic use. There had never been a point in her life where there was no fear attached to magic use. This was a victory, a huge victory, if only for the peace it brought to the hearts of her people.

                “I can write,” she whispered. “To anybody. With no fear.”

                “Yes, you can,” Remus grinned. “To me, I should hope.”

                “Of course,” Hattie agreed. “Oh, Moony. Oh, I’m so happy right now.”

                And she was—in that moment, there was nothing that could make her happier. She imagined wizards all around the country getting the message on their protean coins, putting two and two together. Sending letters to their loved ones for the first time in over a decade. Venturing out of their homes. Celebrating a small victory. Tears welled in her eyes as she pictured wand-users all around the country doing magic fearlessly, their wands held high in the air as they whispered Latin into the stars.

                She imagined the ceremony, the celebration, that would be happening as they spoke. Severus using the kinds of spells he’d always feared to use when she was near, and the Weasleys taking a breath of relief and never having to fear becoming a hotspot again. And the sheer amount of magic that would be shed tonight.

                With these thoughts in mind, she closed her eyes and drew upon her magic.

                “ _Expecto Patronum,”_ were the words she whispered, the sheer amount of magic she used nearly blinding her even behind her closed lids. The patronus that formed from the light was as bright as the sun for a moment, and then faded down so she could see its form.

                It was a huge, lumbering wolf, even larger than a bear. She laughed a little, reaching out to touch its fur. It was corporeal in the way that she could feel it, but putting too much pressure would cause her hand to slide right through its form. It was different than last time she performed the spell; last time it was a stag. But Professor said patroni were wont to change as you grew, so she wasn’t worried.

                Remus, in the mirror, was smiling a smile so wide his cheeks must’ve hurt. Hattie thought he must’ve gotten the idea of what she was doing, because he drew out his wand and cast the spell himself. His, too, was a canine, but smaller in form—more like a large, shaggy dog.

                “It’s a celebration,” Hattie said, thickly. “Moony—go tell the others. Quickly.”

                He hurried to the door, the dog following behind him, already shouting his orders. Hattie couldn’t see much, he was careful to keep her hidden, but she could hear whoever else was around saying the same incantation.

                “Expecto Patronum,” they were saying, some eagerly, some muted. Some seemed sorrowful. Hattie gave a soft sob as she started seeing ghostly blue light up the frame of the mirror, glint off Remus’ cheekbones, reflect in the doorknob.

                Tears started flowing down Remus’ cheeks, too, and he didn’t even bother to wipe them away as he smiled down at her. “It’s a celebration,” he agreed. “Sleep well, Hattie. Be diligent.”

                And then the picture staring back at her was her own face, and the wolf, hovering over her shoulder. Her nose was pink and her eyes were puffy, but there was a lightness in her face that she’d never seen before.

                This was a victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there you have it! Here we are quickly moving into the climax of Twilight and the beginning of Hattie's story for the next foreseeable future. 
> 
> I'm sure a few of you are going to have questions about why Hattie wasn't involved with the Ministry, or why the Ministry fell so quickly/so easily. My focus while writing this was never on the Ministry, or even Diagon Alley. Hattie will have her fight and I'm sure some of you can guess what it's going to be already--and if you can't it'll be introduced in the next 3-4 chapters anyways :) There's always been a scene in my head whilst writing this that kind of has been the driving point, the _I need to get there_ moment, and I'm still not there yet, but I'm so excited to write it :) 
> 
> **If you have any specific questions, I can answer them over on Twitter: @QueenBuzzle.** And as always, reviews and comments are so very appreciated! :)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter @QueenBuzzle :)
> 
> \- Follows Twilight: 18 through Twilight: 19 pretty closely, but with some changes to the angsty goodbye scene as she doesn’t live in Charlie’s house.  
> \- I'm going to post another chapter tonight also because I hate this chapter, it's really bad (more in the end notes)

_“I'll come back to you," I say. "I promise you, if it's the last thing I do, I'll come back to you."_

_Her face is buried in my neck. She nods._

_"I'll count the minutes until you do." she says. ―[Pittacus Lore](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3380908.Pittacus_Lore)_

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                The whole time everything had been happening with the ‘visitors’, Bella had been rooted in place, terrified into absolute immobility. It was one thing knowing vampires existed when they were your friends—lovely honey-eyed statues of perfection. It was entirely another thing when three feral-looking, red-eyed creatures stalked out of the forest ready to eat you.

Edward had to grip Bella’s elbow and pull sharply to break her out of her trance, motioning her to move forward. Alice and Emmett were close behind them, hiding her from view. She stumbled alongside Edward, still stunned with fear, remembering James, Laurent and Victoria’s piercing red eyes.

                Once they were into the trees, Edward slung Bella over his back without breaking stride. She gripped as tightly as possible as he took off, the others close on his heels. She kept her head down, but her eyes, wide with fright, wouldn’t close. They plunged through the now-black forest like wraiths.

                The sense of exhilaration that usually seemed to possess Edward as he ran was completely absent, replaced by a fury that consumed him and drove him still faster. Even with Bella on his back, the others trailed behind.

                They reached the Jeep in an impossibly short time, and Edward barely slowed as he flung her in the backseat.

                “Strap her in,” he ordered Emmett, who slid in beside her. Emmett followed the command swiftly, his huge hands buckling the harness with a deftness that would’ve been surprising any other time.

                Alice was already in the front seat, and Edward was starting the engine. It roared to life and they swerved backward, spinning around to face the winding road.

                Edward was growling something too fast for Bella to understand, but it sounded a lot like a string of profanities.

                The jolting trip was much worse than before, when her only worries had been leaving the house before Charlie and her siblings laughed her out of the country. The ride then, in the slow drizzle, had been almost _nice_ compared to this—which resembled a high-speed police chase. The darkness now only made it more frightening. As she looked around in shock at the strange turn of events, Emmett and Alice both glared out the side windows.

                They hit the main road, and though their speed increased, Bella could see much better where they were going. They were headed south, away from Forks.

                “Where are we going?” She asked.

                No one answered. No one even looked at her.

                “Dammit, Edward! Where are you taking me?” she yelled.

                “We have to get you away from here—far away—now.” He didn’t look back, his eyes on the road. The speedometer read a hundred and five miles an hour.

                “Turn around!” Bella shouted. “You have to take me home!” She struggled with the stupid harness, tearing at the straps.

                “Emmett,” Edward said grimly.

                And Emmett secured her hands in his steely grasp, the hands that had seemed so deft before now cages for her fragile ones.

                “No! Edward! No, you can’t do this!”

                “I have to, Bella, now please be quiet.”

                “I won’t! You have to take me back—Charlie will call the FBI! They’ll be all over your family—Carlisle and Esme! They’ll have to leave, to hide forever!”

                “Calm down, Bella.” His voice was cold. “We’ve been there before.”

                “Not over me, you won’t!” she wailed. “You’re not ruining everything over me!” She was still struggling violently, with total futility. Emmett’s eyes weren’t on her, but he seemed to pity her a little bit.

                Alice spoke for the first time. “Edward, pull over.”

                He flashed her a hard look, and then sped up.

                “Edward, let’s just talk this through,” she tried again.

                “You don’t understand!” He roared in frustration. Bella had never heard his voice so loud; it was deafening in the confines of the Jeep. The speedometer neared one hundred and fifteen. “He’s a tracker, Alice, did you see that? He’s a tracker!”

                Bella felt Emmett stiffen next to her, and wondered at his reaction to the word. It meant something more to the three of them than it did to her; she wanted to understand, but there was no opening for her to ask.

                “Pull over, Edward.” Alice’s ton was reasonable, but there was a ring of authority in it that Bella had never heard before.

                The speedometer inched passed one-twenty.

                “Do it, Edward.”

                “Listen to me, Alice. I saw his mind. Tracking is his passion, his obsession—and he wants her, Alice—her, specifically. He begins the hunt tonight.”

                “He doesn’t know where—”

                He interrupted her. “How long do you think it will take him to cross her scent in town? His plan was already set before the words were out of Laurent’s mouth.”

                Bella gasped, knowing where her scent would lead. She felt with sudden urgency that she needed him to stop the car, to listen to her. “My family! Edward, you can’t leave them there! You can’t leave Beau and Hattie!” She thrashed against the harness at the idea of her siblings getting caught in the middle, tears blurring her vision.

                “She’s right,” Alice said.

                The car slowed slightly.

                “Let’s just look at our options for a minute,” Alice coaxed.

                The car slowed again, more noticeably, and then suddenly they screeched to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. Bella flew against the harness, and then slammed back into the seat.

                “There are no options,” Edward hissed.

                “I’m not leaving Beau and Hattie!” Bella yelled.

                He ignored her completely. In most circumstances, mentioning Hattie’s name would soften him a little, the sorrow he felt for not saving her the first time making him guilty and pliable. Not now. Her name didn’t soften him a single ounce.

                “We have to take her back,” Emmett finally spoke. Bella felt an extreme fondness for him in that moment.

                “No,” Edward was absolute.

                “He’s no match for us, Edward. He won’t be able to touch her.”

                “He’ll wait.”

                Emmett smiled. “I can wait, too.”

                “You didn’t see—you don’t understand. Once he commits to a hunt, he’s unshakable. We’ll have to kill him.”

                Emmett didn’t seem upset by the idea. “That’s an option.”

                “And the female. She’s with him. If it turns into a fight, the leader will go with them, too.”

                “There are enough of us.”

                “There’s another option,” Alice said quietly.

                Edward turned on her in fury, his voice a blistering snarl. “There—is—no—other—option!”

                Emmett and Bella both stared at him in shock, but Alice seemed unsurprised. The silence lasted for a long minute as Edward and Alice stared each other down.

                Bella broke it. “Does anyone want to hear my plan?”

                “No,” Edward growled. Alice glared at him, finally provoked.

                “Listen,” Bella pleaded. “You take me back.”

                “No,” he interrupted.

                Bella glared at him and continued. “You take me back. I tell my dad I want to go home to Phoenix. I pack my bags. We wait till this tracker is watching, and then we run. He’ll follow us and leave my family alone. Charlie won’t call the FBI on your family. Then you can take me any damned place you want.”

                They all stared at her, stunned.

                “It’s not a bad idea, really.” Emmett’s surprise was definitely an insult.

                “It might work—and we simply can’t leave her family unprotected. You know that,” Alice said.

                Everyone looked at Edward.

                “It’s too dangerous—I don’t want him within a hundred miles of her.”

                Emmett was supremely confident. “Edward, he’s not getting through us.”

                Alice thought for a minute. “I don’t see him attacking. He’ll try to wait for us to leave her alone.”

                “It won’t take long for him to realize that’s not going to happen.”

                “I demand that you take me home.” Bella tried to sound firm.

                Edward pressed his fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

                “ _Please_ ,” she added in a much smaller voice, trying her best to emulate Hattie, remembering the way her sister could somehow make herself seem much smaller and younger on a whim.

                He didn’t look up. When he spoke, his voice sounded worn. “You’re leaving tonight, whether the tracker sees or not. You tell them that you can’t stand another minute in Forks. Tell them whatever story works. Pack the first things your hands touch, and then get in your truck. I don’t care what they say to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep.”

                The Jeep rumbled to life, and he spun them around, the tires squealing. The needle on the speedometer started to race up the dial.

                “Emmett?” Bella asked, looking pointedly at her hands.

                “Oh, sorry.” He let her loose.

                A few minutes passed in silence, other than the roar of the engine. Then Edward spoke again.

                “This is how it’s going to happen. When we get to the house, if the tracker is not there, I will walk her to the door. Then she has fifteen minutes.” He glared at her in the rearview mirror. “Emmett, you take the outside of the house. Alice, you get the truck. I’ll be inside as long as she is. After she’s out, you two can take the Jeep home and tell Carlisle.”

                “No way,” Emmett broke in. “I’m with you.”

                “Think it through, Emmett. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

                “Until we know how far this is going to go, I’m with you.”

                Edward sighed. “If the tracker is there,” he continued grimly, “we keep driving.”

                “We’re going to make it there before him,” Alice said confidently.

                Edward seemed to accept that. Whatever his problem with Alice was, he didn’t doubt her now.

                “What are we going to do with the Jeep?” She asked.

                His voice had a hard edge. “You’re driving it home.”

                “No, I’m not,” she said calmly.

                The unintelligible stream of profanities started again.

                “We can’t all fit in my truck,” Bella whispered.

                Edward didn’t appear to hear her.

                “I think you should let me go alone,” she said, even more quietly.

                He heard that.

                “Bella, please just do this my way, just this once,” he said between clenched teeth.

                “Listen, Charlie’s not an imbecile,” Bella protested. “If you’re not in town tomorrow, he’s going to get suspicious.”

                “That’s irrelevant. We’ll make sure he’s safe, and that’s all that matters.”

                “Then what about this tracker? He saw the way you acted tonight. He’s going to think you’re with me, wherever you are.”

                Emmett looked at her, insultingly surprised again. “Edward, listen to her,” he urged. “I think she’s right.”

                “Yes, she is,” Alice agreed.

                “I can’t do that,” Edward’s voice was icy.

                “Emmett should stay, too,” Bella continued. “He definitely got an eyeful of Emmett.”

                “What?” Emmett exclaimed, turning on her.

                “You’ll get a better crack at him if you stay,” Alice agreed.

                Edward stared at her incredulously. “You think I should let her go alone?”

                “Of course not,” Alice said. “Jasper and I will take her.”

                “I can’t do that,” Edward repeated, but this time there was a trace of defeat in his voice. The logic was working on him.

                They drove in silence for a little while, Bella simultaneously reeling at how fast everything had gone and dreading the upcoming minutes at her home. She wished she had never stepped foot in the clearing in the woods, though it had been fascinating to watch the Cullens play baseball. She could feel the change in herself even now—this night was a turning point in her life.

                She just wished she knew what the outcome would be.

                Still, it was fairly obvious within seconds of arriving at the house that the tracker wasn’t there. Edward nodded to Emmett, who reached over to help Bella get out of the harness. Her whole mind was preoccupied with what would happen next that she almost didn’t hear him talk softly to her.

                “Don’t worry, Bella,” he said, in a low but cheerful voice, “we’ll take care of things here quickly.”

                Moisture filled up her eyes as she looked at Emmett. She barely knew him, and yet, somehow, not knowing when she would see him again after tonight was anguishing. She knew this was just a faint taste of the goodbyes she would have to endure in the next hour, and the thought made tears begin to spill.

                “Alice, Emmett.” Edward’s voice was a command. The duo slithered soundlessly into the darkness, instantly disappearing. Edward opened Bella’s door and took her hand, then drew her into the protecting enclosure of his arm. He walked her swiftly toward the loft, his eyes always roving through the night.

                “Fifteen minutes,” he warned under his breath.

                “I can do this,” Bella sniffled. She was trying to talk herself into believing it. The first hurdle would be Hattie, but she knew exactly what buttons to push there.

                She stopped in front of the door and took hold of his face, looking fiercely into his eyes. “I love you,” she said, in a low, intense voice. “I will always love you, no matter what happens now.”

                “Nothing is going to happen to you, Bella,” he said, just as fiercely.

                “Just follow the plan, okay? Keep my family safe for me. They’re not going to like me very much, but I hope Hattie will at least understand. I want to have the chance to apologize later.”

                “Get inside, Bella. We have to hurry.” His voice was urgent.

                “One more thing,” Bella whispered passionately. “Don’t take anything I say tonight seriously.” He was leaning in, and so all she had to do was stretch up on her toes to kiss his surprised, frozen lips with as much force as she was capable of. Then she turned and threw open the door, stalking up the stairs angrily.

                She remembered from when Beau had trudged up these stairs, how she had been able to tell he didn’t know what he was doing. Now she stomped on all the squeaky spots, making as much noise as possible as she made her way upstairs, trying to let Hattie know she was there.

                She threw open her bedroom door and slammed it, and that’s when she heard Hattie come out. Her sister started knocking on the door as Bella dug her suitcase out of the closet, beginning to throw her clothes into it.

                “Bella? You sound angry!” Hattie called from the door. Edward appeared in the window and started helping her throw things into the suitcase.

                “I’m just _done_ with this town!” Bella shouted, her fury and rage at the tracker translating nicely into an almost-growl. “I’m going home!”

                “Bella?!” Hattie shouted, rattling the locked door. “Come on—talk to me. What’s going on? Is this about Edward?”

                “No!” she growled, digging around for her hidden stash of money. “Yes! It’s about everything! I can’t keep putting down roots in this god-forsaken town. I’m not going to let myself get trapped here like my mom did!”

                Her sister was silent for a moment, and then resumed pounding on the door. “What about us?”

                “I—I love you guys, but I can’t stay here! Hattie, you understand. You left behind everything to come here.”

                “That was different!” Hattie shouted. Bella was surprised to hear something like tears in her sister’s voice. “You know that was different, Bella. Please.”

                “I can’t. I just can’t.”

                “What happened, Bella? Talk to me! I’m your sister!”

                Bella cringed, slamming her eyes shut tightly for the briefest second. The image of Hattie that day in the school parking lot filled her mind, that first tight hug as something more than just cousins— _a secret kept between sisters._ But there was nothing to be done. Even if Hattie hurt now, it was better than the alternative. Bella straightened her shoulders and threw the last few things into her bag.

They were done packing.

Edward smoothly zipped the suitcase and handed it off to her, his eyes heavy.

                “I’ll be in the truck—go!” he whispered, pushing her toward the door. She stumbled, and he vanished out the window.

                Bella steeled herself and threw the door open, coming face to face with her sister. The smaller girl was crying perhaps harder than Bella was. It broke some part of her, knowing all that Hattie had been through—but it was to keep her safe. She would mend everything when she came home.

                “Bella,” Hattie murmured.

                She had to go. She still had to make a scene with Charlie, and she was running out of time. “I’m sorry, Hattie.”

                Then she plunged down the steps, vaguely aware of her sister following after her.

                She slammed open the back door of the house, startling the men inside. They both jumped to their feet when they saw her tearful face, her suitcase, and Hattie behind her.

                “Bella? Hattie? What’s happening?” Beau demanded softly, coming up to them. Bella tried to compose herself, knowing that they would never let her leave if she was sobbing, if only for her own safety.

                “I’m going home,” she said confidently. “I’m leaving. I hate this town.”

                “What?” Beau asked, looking like he’d been slapped. “Bella—slow down.”

                “No!” Bella shrieked, shaking her head. “You don’t get it, Beau. You’re happy here. I can never be happy here.”

                “But what about Edward—” Charlie began, bewildered. He came up to her and caught her by the elbow as she tried to turn and leave.

                “I broke up with Edward,” Bella lied. She was so upset she felt cold, shivering. “I can’t keep putting down roots here. I don’t want to end up trapped in this stupid, boring town like Mom! I’m not going to make the same dumb mistake she did. I hate it—I can’t stay here another minute!”

                Charlie’s hand dropped from her arm like she’d electrocuted him. Beau looked angry in the background. Bella turned away from them both and tried not to look at Hattie as she exited the door.

                “Bells, you can’t leave now. It’s nighttime,” Charlie whispered.

                She didn’t turn around. “I’ll sleep in the truck if I get tired.”

                “Just wait another week,” Beau snapped, the anger on his face overtaken by worry. “Mom will be home by then.”

                “What?” Bella asked, completely derailed.

                Charlie picked up where Beau left off, almost babbling with relief as Bella hesitated. “She called while you were out. Things aren’t going so well in Florida, and if Phil doesn’t get signed by the end of the week, they’re going back to Arizona. The assistant coach of the Sidewinders said they might have a spot for another shortstop.”

                Bella shook her head, trying to reassemble her now-confused thoughts. Every passing second put her family in more danger.

                 “I have a key,” she muttered, stepping away from the door. He was too close, one hand extended toward her, his face dazed. She couldn’t lose any more time arguing—she was going to have to hurt him further.

                 “Just let me go, Charlie,” she said, repeating her mother’s last words as she’d walked out the same door so many years ago. She said them as angrily as she could manage. “It didn’t work out, okay? I really, really hate Forks!”

                Her cruel words did their job—Charlie and Beau were both frozen inside the house, stunned, while Bella ran out into the night. But Hattie stood there sobbing. She had been Bella’s confidant, friend, sister for long enough now that Bella’s frame wracked with a sob too, and she whirled to give her a huge, tight hug before she left.

                “I love you,” she told Hattie, shaking. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Hattie. Please forgive me.”

                And then she ran down the driveway, aiming herself wildly for the truck, visualizing a dark shadow behind herself. She tossed her suitcase into the bed and threw herself into the seat, slamming the door. The key was waiting in the ignition.

                As she gunned the engine and peeled out, she wished more than anything that she could explain everything to them right then, knowing she would never be able to.

                Edward was already there, and reached for her hand. “Pull over,” he said, as the house, and her family, disappeared behind them. Her last sight of it was Beau gathering Hattie up and bringing her inside.

                 “I can drive,” Bella said, through the tears pouring down her cheeks.

                His long hands unexpectedly gripped her waist, and his foot pushed hers off the gas pedal. He pulled her across his lap, wrenching her hands free of the wheel, and suddenly he was in the driver’s seat. The truck didn’t swerve an inch.

                 “You wouldn’t be able to find the house,” he explained.

                Light flared suddenly behind them. She stared out the back window, eyes wide with horror.

                “It’s just Alice,” he reassured her. He took her hand again.

                Her mind was filled with the image of Hattie in the driveway. “The tracker?”

                “He heard the end of your performance,” Edward said grimly.

                “My family?” she asked in dread.

                 “The tracker followed us. He’s running behind us now.”

                Her body went cold.

                 “Can we outrun him?”

                 “No.” But he sped up as he spoke. The truck’s engine whined in protest.

                Her plan suddenly didn’t feel so brilliant anymore.

                She was staring back at Alice’s headlights when the truck shuddered and a dark shadow sprung up outside the window.

                Her bloodcurdling scream lasted a fraction of a second before Edward’s hand clamped down on her mouth.

                 “It’s Emmett!” He released her mouth, and wound his arm around her waist. “It’s okay, Bella. You’re going to be safe.”

                They raced through the quiet town toward the north highway.

                 “I didn’t realize you were still so bored with small-town life,” he said conversationally, and she knew he was trying to distract her. “It seemed like you were adjusting fairly well—especially recently. Maybe I was just flattering myself that I was making life more interesting for you.”

                 “I wasn’t being nice,” Bella confessed, ignoring his attempt at diversion and looking down at her knees. “With Hattie—well. And Charlie, that was the same thing my mom said to him when she left. You could say I was hitting below the belt with everybody tonight.”

                 “Don’t worry. They’ll forgive you.” He smiled a little, though it didn’t touch his eyes.

                She stared at him desperately, and he saw the naked panic in her eyes.

                 “Bella, it’s going to be alright.”

                 “But it won’t be alright when I’m not with you,” she whispered. She suddenly was imagining how it must’ve felt for Hattie, leaving everything behind—when Bella came to Forks, at least she had Beau. Hattie hadn’t had anyone.

                 “We’ll be together again in a few days,” Edward said, tightening his arm around her. “Don’t forget that this was your idea.”

                 “It was the best idea—of course it was mine,” she joked hollowly.

—x—

                They drove right up to the house. The lights inside were bright, but they did little to alleviate the blackness of the encroaching forest. Emmett had her door open before the truck was even stopped; he pulled her out of the seat, tucked her like a football into his vast chest, and ran her through the door.

                They burst into the large white room, Edward and Alice at their side. Everyone was there; the Cullens were already on their feet at the sound of their approach. Laurent stood in their midst. She could hear low growls rumble deep in Emmett’s throat as he sat her down next to Edward.

                “He’s tracking us,” Edward announced, glaring balefully at Laurent.

                Laurent’s face was unhappy. “I was afraid of that.”

                Alice danced to Jasper’s side and whispered in his ear; her lips quivered with the speed of her silent speech. They flew up the stairs together. Rosalie watched them, and then moved quickly to Emmett’s side. Her beautiful eyes were intense and—when they flickered unwillingly to Bella’s face—furious. Edythe stood nearby them, staring a hole into the floor, but the focused look on her face made it clear she was paying attention to _something_ at least.

                 “What will he do?” Carlisle asked Laurent in chilling tones.

                 “I’m sorry,” he answered. “I was afraid, when your boy there defended her, that it would set him off.”

                 “Can you stop him?”

                Laurent shook his head. “Nothing stops James when he gets started.”

                 “We’ll stop him,” Emmett promised. There was no doubt what he meant.

                 “You can’t bring him down. I’ve never seen anything like him in my three hundred years. He’s absolutely lethal. That’s why I joined his coven.”

                Laurent was shaking his head. He glanced at Bella, perplexed, and back to Carlisle. “Are you sure it’s worth it?”

                Edward’s enraged roar filled the room; Laurent cringed back.

                Carlisle looked gravely at Laurent. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to make a choice.”

                Laurent understood. He deliberated for a moment. His eyes took in every face, and finally swept the bright room.

                 “I’m intrigued by the life you’ve created here. But I won’t get in the middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won’t go up against James. I think I will head north—to that clan in Denali.” He hesitated. “Don’t underestimate James. He’s got a brilliant mind and unparalleled senses. He’s every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to be, and he won’t come at you head on…I’m sorry for what’s been unleashed here. Truly sorry.” He bowed his head, but she saw him flicker another puzzled look at her.

                 “Go in peace,” was Carlisle’s formal answer.

                Laurent took another long look around himself, and then he hurried out the door.

                The silence lasted less than a second.

                 “How close?” Carlisle looked to Edythe.

                Esme was already moving; her hand touched an inconspicuous keypad on the wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass wall. Bella gaped.

                 “About three miles out past the river; he’s circling around to meet up with the female.” Edythe responded, cocking her head as if she were listening to something far away.

                 “What’s the plan?” Carlisle asked the room.

                 “We’ll lead him off, and then Jasper and Alice will run her south.” Edward responded crisply.

                 “And then?”

                Edward’s tone was deadly. “As soon as Bella is clear, we hunt him.”

                 “I guess there’s no other choice,” Carlisle agreed, his face grim.

                Edward turned to Rosalie.

                 “Get her upstairs and trade clothes,” Edward commanded. She stared back at him with livid disbelief.

                 “Why should I?” she hissed. “What is she to me? Except a menace—a danger you’ve chosen to inflict on all of us.”

                Bella flinched back from the venom in her voice.

                 “Rose…” Emmett murmured, putting one hand on her shoulder. She shook it off.

                But Bella was watching Edward carefully, knowing his temper, worried about his reaction. He surprised her. He looked away from Rosalie as if she hadn’t spoken, as if she didn’t exist. After a moment, Edythe spoke.

                 “I’ll do it.”

                She was at Bella’s side in half a heartbeat, swinging her up easily into her arms and dashing up the stairs before Bella could even gasp in shock.

                 “What are we doing?” Bella asked breathlessly as Edythe set her down in a dark room somewhere off the second-story hall.

                 “Trying to confuse the smell. It won’t work for long, but it might help you get out.”

                Bella could hear the clothes falling to the floor. She and Edythe were pretty similarly sized. Edythe might’ve been a hair shorter, but they should fit each other’s clothes just fine. Edythe’s hands were abruptly pulling Bella’s shirt over her head, so she quickly stripped her jeans off herself.

                It was a struggle to dress in the pitch-black of the room, and Edythe ended up helping a bit, pulling arms through armholes like Bella was a toddler. Somehow, as Bella buttoned the borrowed jeans, Edythe was already fully dressed. She pulled Bella back to the stairs, where Alice stood, a small leather bag in one hand. They each grabbed one of Bella’s elbows and half-carried her as they flew down the stairs.

                It appeared that everything had been settled downstairs in their absence. Edward and Emmett were ready to leave, Emmett carrying a heavy-looking backpack over his shoulder. Carlisle was handing something small to Esme. He turned and handed Alice the same thing—it was a tiny silver cellphone.

                 “Edythe, Rosalie and Esme will be taking your truck, Bella,” Carlisle told her as she passed. She nodded, glancing warily at Rosalie. She was glowering at Carlisle with a resentful expression.

                 “Alice, Jasper—take the Mercedes. You’ll need the dark tint in the south.”

                They nodded as well.

                 “We’re taking the Jeep.” He concluded.

                Bella was surprised to see that Carlisle intended to go with Edward. She realized suddenly, with a stab of fear, that they made up the hunting party.

                 “Alice,” Edythe asked softly. “Will they take the bait?”

                Everyone watched Alice as she closed her eyes and became incredibly still.

                Finally, her eyes opened. “He’ll track the boys. The woman will follow the truck. We should be able to leave after that.” Her voice was certain.

                 “Let’s go.” Carlisle  began to walk toward the kitchen.

                But Edward was at Bella’s side at once. He caught her up in his iron grip, crushing her to him. He seemed unaware of his watching family as he pulled her face to his, lifting her feet off the floor. For the shortest second, his lips were icy and hard against hers. Then it was over. He set her down, still holding her face, his glorious eyes burning into hers.

                His eyes went blank, curiously dead, as he turned away. And then they were gone.

                She stood there, the others looking away from her as the tears streaked noiselessly down her face.

                The silent moment dragged on, and then Esme’s phone vibrated in her hand. It flashed to her ear.

                 “Now,” she said. Rosalie stalked out the front door without another glance in Bella’s direction, and Esme touched her cheek as she passed, whispering, “Be safe.”

                Edythe, too, paused before Bella with a curious expression. Then her arms were around Bella in a quick, tight hug. “You’re going to be alright.”

                A few moments later Bella heard the truck start thunderously, and then fade away.

                Jasper and Alice waited. Alice’s phone seemed to be at her ear before it buzzed.

                 “Edward says the woman is on Edythe’s trail. I’ll get the car.” She vanished into the shadows the way Edward had gone.

                Jasper and Bella looked at each other. He stood across the length of the entryway away from her…being careful.

                 “You’re wrong, you know,” he said quietly.

                 “What?” Bella gasped.

                 “I can feel what you’re feeling now—and you _are_ worth it.”

                 “I’m not,” Bella mumbled. “If anything happens to them, it will be for nothing.”

                 “You’re wrong,” he repeated, smiling kindly at her.

                She heard nothing, but then Alice stepped through the front door and came toward her with her arms held out.

                 “May I?” She asked.

                 “You’re the first one to ask permission.” Bella smiled wryly.

                She lifted Bella in her slender arms as easily as Emmett had, shielding her protectively, and then they flew out the door, leaving the lights bright behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. That's an awful chapter. It's one of the ones where you can really tell I wasn't planning on posting this fic--it's pretty dull, the scenes that were supposed to be emotional were not emotional, etc. Most of it was ripped straight from Twilight because it's just a filler chapter to move the story further along. (You'll be happy to note it's one of the last like this.) 
> 
> Short of rewriting this chapter (which I just don't see the point of right now, maybe I will in the future), I couldn't fix it and give it a better vibe. So instead I'm just going to post 28 in a few minutes, too. And from 28 on is what I'm nervous about posting, so I hope you guys like it!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter @QueenBuzzle ~~

_“I want to reach out and grab his hand and hold it to me, right over my heart, right where it aches the most. I don't know if doing that would heal me or make my heart break entirely, but either way this constant hungry waiting would be over.” ―[Ally Condie](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1304470.Ally_Condie)_

_══════_

                After everything that had happened the previous night, Hattie was expecting to have to make up some huge, heavy lies to get to Seattle on Monday. She spent all night worrying about what excuse she would give to Charlie for leaving the house so early. And, because Bella had run off, Hattie didn’t exactly know what to expect from Charlie.

                But it didn’t end up mattering.

                By the time Hattie was dressed, and had emptied her knapsack of school things and refilled it with wizarding things, Charlie was gone for the day. The sun hadn’t even risen yet—the clock read 5:02 when Hattie inched down the stairs, entirely too aware of the still silence coming from her sister’s room. She stubbornly ignored all of her thoughts regarding Bella in preparation of confronting Charlie, pushing open the loft door and exiting into the chilly March morning.

                Immediately she noticed the lack of vehicles in the driveway—Bella and Beau’s truck, of course, was missing from its usual place. But the cruiser, too, was gone; Charlie was already off for the day, maybe using work as an excuse to ignore his emotions. Despite her worry for him, Hattie was somewhat relieved she wouldn’t have to face him.

                She unlocked the house silently, utilizing her years of training in the art of stealth. (She preferred to call it ‘the art of stealth’ rather than admit that it was going unnoticed and hiding.) Hattie was only within the house for a couple of minutes, grabbing something to eat on her drive. She didn’t want to wake Beau and risk blowing all of her plans.

                An inkling of guilt worked its way into her gut. When he awoke in less than two hours to start his day, it would be to find that not only had his sister abandoned him, but that Hattie was missing as well. She vowed she would text him the first time she stopped for gas.

                The drive to Seattle was uneventful. She spent it in silence, mostly for the fact that she didn’t have any music in her car yet. Instead she became lost in her own thoughts. To be honest, after everything, Hattie was looking forward to going to Seattle. The idea had scared her at first, of opening a door that could not be closed again. But Bella’s departure the previous night had reaffirmed something within her; the dichotomy of Hattie Potter and Hattie Swan, the idea that she could somehow separate those two beings. There was no either-or, and she knew that now. She’d been playing Hattie Swan’s life like it was pretend, like an actress in a movie, knowing that she could leave everything behind at the end of the day and go home to Real Life.

                But Hattie Swan was real life. The emotions Hattie Swan felt were no less real than the emotions Hattie Potter felt. They were different people, but they were also wholly and unabashedly the same. And thanks to Bella, Hattie knew now that there would be no clean break. At the end of everything, when the dust settled, Hattie’s and the Swans’ lives—even Jacob’s life—would be irreparably scarred by her foray in Forks. None of them would ever be the same again.

                She _couldn’t_ be the same again.

                There was a very thin line between who she was before and who she became. Maybe it was a part of growing older, or maybe it was circumstance. The barrier between Potter and Swan, between Witch and Human, between Soldier and Teenager, blurred a little bit more each day. Sometimes she didn’t know which she was in any particular moment. She’d spent so long separating her identities out of fear—fear of the regime, fear of rejection, fear of never finding her place in the world—that as they met in the middle the similarities scared her. She felt lost. She didn’t know how to be a witch and a girlfriend at the same time, a soldier and a student; those were lines that had never crossed before.

                She didn’t know the balance between Potter and Swan yet.

                But she was learning. Each day was a new lesson to be had, and each day she came closer to being a Hattie she could be happy to be.

                Bella didn’t understand all she had and all she was giving up, leaving Forks. She was leaving a family. People who loved her. That was not something you could just do and feel _nothing_.

                Hattie knew that now, too—the stark isolation of leaving behind everything. When she came to Forks she thought she’d never had a family, people who loved her, but that hadn’t been true, not really. Severus, in his own way, had always loved her—and she had loved him, too. Her entire network, all of her allies, were her family in one way or another. They were different from an average family, but different isn’t always a bad thing. Leaving them, not knowing when she would be able to speak to them again—not knowing who would be alive when she came back—that had been hard.

                One day, Bella would regret leaving behind everything. It was only a matter of time.

                Also on Hattie’s mind that morning was Severus. She wondered when he would deign to contact her—Moony had said he would. It was already late morning in the UK, so the continued silence on his end was sort of bothersome. But Moony had also said there were people who needed Professor’s medical attention. He was a good healer—one of the best, maybe _the_ best, in their network. It was thanks to his tutelage that healing magic was one of Hattie’s strongest suits, second only to defense. So she was trying to be patient, imagining him slaving away in a sick bay, but it was still difficult.

                Hattie stopped at a petrol station off the highway an hour after leaving, the needle of her fuel gauge hovering over empty. The sun was finally coming up over the horizon, and it cast the sky in pretty pinks and oranges, the March air brisk. Even the seedy gas station, with its dirty pumps and trash-strewn parking lot, somehow looked wistful. The early-morning wind blew chillily, stirring up rogue litter and newspapers, but it felt brisk and refreshing.

                As she leaned against the car, pumping petrol lazily, Hattie finally took out her phone. She had the usual good-morning message from Jacob, which made guilt bubble up in her chest. There wasn’t a point when she could’ve told him about everything that had happened—about Bella leaving, about her going to Seattle. She could tell him now, but she wasn’t sure how to explain, so she just deleted the notification.

                Beau had texted her, of course. He’d probably woken up and went about his normal routine, showered, gotten dressed, wandered downstairs…only the house would be empty. Bella wasn’t there. Hattie wasn’t there. She tried not to imagine him looking around the dark, silent house confusedly—it made her guilt weigh even more in her chest.

                **Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**Bow: hattie where r u**

**u cant just disappear on me**

**hattie?**

**Bird: I’m on my way to seattle**

**Bow: ???**

**Bird: sorry i didn’t tell you**

**_//Bow is typing…//_ **

                The longer it said Beau was typing, the more anxious Hattie became for his response. The ticking of the pump as it dispensed her petrol and the traffic on the road across from her were the only sounds as she stared at her phone. After a moment, it didn’t say he was typing anymore. She stared at it in confusion, waiting, trying to think of something to type to him.

                Then her phone started ringing, his name— **BEAU SWAN** —lighting up her screen. Her anxiety cranked up another notch as she carefully hit the green button, putting the phone to her ear.

                Beau’s own anxious voice greeted her. “Hattie? Hattie, what’s going on?”

                “Hi, Beau,” Hattie said meekly, watching the numbers on the pump climb.

                “I know Bella’s gone now—but you don’t have to leave. I’m still here. I thought you liked it here?”

                Hattie’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I do like it here. What are you talking about?”

                Beau stuttered for a moment, tripping over the words tumbling out of his mouth. “You were so upset last night. I get it. But, Bella’s a big girl. I-I know you love her, but you don’t have to leave…I don’t want you to leave.”

                “I’m not leaving!” Hattie said, shocked. “Why do you think I’m leaving?”

                “You’re not leaving?” Beau asked, relief stark in his voice. “But why else would you go to Seattle?”

                Understanding hit Hattie like a brick. He thought she was going to the airport—to leave Forks. The weight of her guilt made her sag against the car.

                “I’m going to come home tonight,” Hattie said, slowly. “It’s hard to explain. I have a meeting with someone from home today—I just found out about it last night, and then everything happened…I promise you, if I decide to leave, I will tell you. I love Bella, but I love you too, Beau.”

                “I-I panicked when you said you were going to Seattle,” Beau admitted. His normally strong, deep voice was weak and ragged. It sounded like he was holding back tears. “I’ve never lived without Bella, but I thought it’d be okay because you’d be here, and then—and then I thought you weren’t gonna be here either.”

                Hattie swallowed hard as she removed the nozzle from her car. “Oh, Beau. There are just things I have to take care of, but I’m coming back. You guys are my home now.”

                Beau sniffed and it sounded suspiciously wet. “Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “What should I tell the school?”

                Hattie paused as she was climbing into her car, blinking, and then continued. “Um…nothing?”

                “But—neither of us will be there.”

                “It’s a family emergency,” Hattie said thoughtfully. “I think we can explain tomorrow that we weren’t sure what was going to happen.”

                “And what about Dad?” Beau prompted.

                “I hope I’m home before he gets back,” she muttered, clicking her seatbelt into place. But seeing that it took almost four hours to get to Seattle from Forks, that probably wouldn’t be the case. “If he asks, just…tell him you don’t know where I am. I’ll figure it out when I get home.”

                “I don’t like this, Hattie,” Beau grumbled.

                “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll be home soon, Beau. I have to drive now—but I love you. Talk to you later!”

                “I love you too. Drive safe.” Beau responded, his voice a sigh. Then he was hanging up.

                In the group chat moments later, Beau typed a careful message.

**Bow: Please drive safe Hattie**

**I hope you’re driving safely too, Bella**

**I don’t like not being there to help you guys.**

**Bird: I will drive safe!!! I’ll text you when I get there!**

                Of course, it didn’t escape either of their notice that Bella never replied. Hattie’s phone informed her that _Bell_ was _Last Active: 8hrs._ Perhaps her phone battery was dead, or she didn’t have service wherever she was, or perhaps she had just shut it off for fear of them calling her. Whatever the case, Hattie gave a silent oath, hoping her sister was being smart.

                The route from Forks to Seattle included a ferry ride, which Hattie routed herself around carefully. It added about half an hour to her drive, but she figured that loading into a ferry, waiting to make it across, and then loading back out of a ferry would take a similar amount of time. And it, you know, didn’t include driving her new car into a giant boat.

                Still, with the traffic she ran into during the early morning rush hour, it was nearing 9:30 by the time she arrived in the big city. This was the part where she wasn’t exactly sure what she should do. Nobody had told her where to meet these ‘troops’ Moony was talking about—or how to find the wizarding settlement, New Lummi—or even what she was meant to be doing. Seattle was a huge, sprawling city with several hundred _thousand_ people in it. It wasn’t like Forks, where she could get out of her car, wander around for a little while, and run into just about everybody she knew in a span of twenty minutes.

                Even parking was going to be an issue. Most of the street parking was metered, meant for short periods of time, and even then there was no free spaces. It seemed that most of the city used public transport for this very reason, or walked—there were so many people walking. It was like London, which gave her an inexplicable lurch of homesickness.

                London, with its dreary gray, was never her ideal place to be. It was so big that it was almost suffocating to be lost within the crowds, just another face the passersby ignored. She visited often enough with Professor because you could find almost anything in London, including people willing to sell you black-market potions ingredients. As a young girl she would cling tightly to his hand, and as she got older she found herself careful to stick close to his side. Once, he’d taken her on the underground, and they’d gotten off at Piccadilly Circus. There were huge ad screens, living statues, street performers, and the most people she’d ever seen congregated in one roundabout.

                Now, staring out at Seattle, that suffocating city was the place she most wanted to be right now.

                After a while of driving, Hattie found a parking ramp. It seemed like best option for the moment, so she parked her car, paying the small fee. As she stepped out, slinging her backpack over her shoulders, she felt a letter fall into her pocket.

                She made a small noise that could’ve been frustration or excitement, digging it out slowly. It was smaller than usual, but it was definitely Professor’s handwriting—and his magic. She unfolded it and stared in disbelief.

                The note was two words, followed by a set of wizarding coordinates. _Apparate here._

                Hattie felt a sense of indignant anger welling up within herself—she could feel even her cheeks turn pink with it. There was no missive—no well-wishes—only an order. She couldn’t believe he truly was so caught up in patients he couldn’t even write her a proper note. If that was the case, Moony wouldn’t have been so calm the previous night; he would have been worried about his brothers and sisters in arms, waiting for care. Hattie was so tired of Severus brushing her aside like dust.

                It took everything she had not to crumple the missive, ruin it. She wanted to burn it to ashes. But…she needed it. She needed the long address written inside of it, needed to figure out how to get where she was going. Even if she was angry at Severus, she couldn’t dismiss his summons, not now.

                After barely a cursory glance around, Hattie locked her doors and turned on the spot, her eyes focused completely on the coordinates she was given.

                With a quiet _pop,_ she was gone.

—x—

                And then she was back again. Her apparition always dropped her about an inch off the ground—she landed with a small bounce, knees bending slightly to absorb the shock. As she tucked the parchment in her hand away, she took in the room around herself curiously.

                It was not a large space, more like a wide corridor than an actual room, and the ceiling was low. This, combined with the lack of windows and obvious exits, made Hattie feel almost claustrophobic. Severus would never lead her into a trap, she reminded herself, her heart beating wildly in her chest. But there was nobody there to greet her, no welcoming party.

                In almost a fight-or-flight resolution, her magic unfurled within her chest. Almost without a thought from Hattie, it flickered toward the walls, testing—tasting. It was invisible to the eye, no flashy lights like true spells. Wand-users always exuded this sort of magic, but weaker, and usually closer to their own bodies, like a protective layer. Those who had never favored wands wielded their magic like an extra limb, like Hattie was now.

                One wall was an outer wall—one wall was load-bearing. If she took it down, the building would become unstable and probably collapse. And there was magic here, saturated into the very foundations of the building. Many people had apparated into this very corridor, some recently, the magic clinging to the floorboards like dust. Hattie’s magic touched the wall with the only visible door and understanding seemed to come to her.

                The rest of the building was warded against apparition; this room was likely the part of the building set aside for entering and exiting. She relaxed a little as she moved toward the door, calling her magic back to her. It fell into place around her body, into its natural position. She wouldn’t hide it, felt no need to do so for now. This was a wizarding district—they knew she was magical. Few wand-users could sense the magic surrounding her, and all wandless wizards would understand.

                The door itself was unlocked, and she hesitated briefly before opening it, unsure what she’d find. It was behind many wards, some she didn’t have words for, only the feeling of the magic. There were wards for protection, wards that hid, wards that warned, wards that silenced. There were ancient wards that must’ve been there for a hundred years, but this building didn’t feel like it could’ve been that old.

                The room beyond the corridor was a meeting room of some sort. There were large windows showing an expanse of grassy hills and, beyond them, a thick forest—definitely not Seattle, but Hattie knew she hadn’t apparated very far away. The sun shone brightly over a large table, around which a group of people were sitting.

                Their conversation broke off as Hattie entered the room, her eyes set upon them. Many were not people she recognized. In a split second she took them all in—mostly teenagers, scattered around the table, a couple leaning against a nearby wall; one was even sprawled across the floor. There were nine of them in total, five boys and four girls, of all different ethnicities, shapes, and sizes.

                And, at the head of the table—

                “ _Professor,_ ” Hattie breathed in the sudden silence her appearance caused. He stood smoothly as she stumbled forward, her earlier anger giving way to inexplicable tears. Of all the things she expected to see here, he was not one of them.

                She lurched toward him, first at a stumble, then at a run, desperate. Somehow, she didn’t quite believe he was real—it wasn’t until she hit his chest, face-first, wrapping her arms about his middle, that she let her tears fall. He was just as she’d remembered. He smelled the same, like smoke and monkshood and spicy lavender. Even the texture of his shirt beneath her cheek was the same, soft and yet rough, comforting. He felt like home. He felt like everything she’d missed these last three months, each heartache, each moment of loneliness, every worry she’d had. Everything crashed down around her as he tightened his grip on her, his hand on the back of her head pressing her further into his chest.

                He had missed her, too.

                It seemed like eternity before her gross, embarrassing crying subsided. When it did, he pushed her away, gripping her face with both hands.

                “You idiotic child,” he said fondly, his dark eyes roving over her face fiercely, almost frantically.

                “I missed you too,” Hattie replied with a wet laugh. She could read the set of his face well enough after all these years to know that whatever he’d been looking for—whatever assurance of her well-being he’d needed—he found. “And I hate you a little bit,” she added.

                “I know,” Severus sighed. “It’s probably in your blood.”

                “Moony said you would contact me,” Hattie continued, a little dumbfounded.

                “I told him not to tell you,” Severus explained. His voice was deep and rich, and familiar, bringing her comfort. She recognized herself in the way he spoke, the way he rounded his words, the way they rolled off his tongue—just as she recognized herself in the way he walked, the graceful way he moved, they way he stirred a cauldron. He had raised her in every way that counted.

                “Why?” Even as she asked it, at slightly uncomfortable look Severus gave her, Hattie realized why. “You wanted to surprise me.”

                “I—may have wanted that. Yes.” Severus said, clearing his throat. He looked as bashful as she’d ever seen him look.

                “You _missed_ me,” Hattie prompted, eyes wide. Of course she’d known it—he’d even told her that day on the phone. But the confirmation of it—the way he’d held her so tightly, that he _wanted_ to _surprise_ her—was something else entirely.

                “Did you doubt me capable of that sort of emotion?” Severus asked dryly. As if her words reminded him of it, he pulled her close again. “These last months have been—trying.”

                The anger she’d felt earlier coiled in her stomach, threatening to rise up again, but she tamped it down. Still, with a little bit of heat in her voice, she reprimanded him: “You could have contacted me a little more often!”

                “It would have made everything more difficult, had I have done so,” Severus denied, letting her go again. Vaguely she realized the other teens had departed, giving them privacy. He sat back in his chair and she retreated to the nearest one, dragging it as close as possible.

                “I am not a _child_ ,” Hattie grumbled. “I knew what I wanted—I knew what I was doing—you contacting me would only have made it easier.”

                “I did not mean that it would make things more difficult for _you_ ,” Severus snapped. Unlike her words, his held no heat. Indeed, he looked almost embarrassed, an emotion she wasn’t used to seeing on his face.

                “I don’t understand.” Hattie said, simply. It wasn’t because she was being nasty—she truly didn’t understand what he meant. All those years he had kept her at arm’s length, insisting that he was not her father, pretending he didn’t care for her.

                “You…” Severus hesitated, then shook his head. When he continued, his words were slow and calculated. “It would not be remiss to say you are the closest thing to a child I will ever have. I was…afraid, all those years. I knew that I was your main caregiver. I feared I would somehow mess up, and you would be ruined. So I tried not to become attached. But I failed, of course…you were too perfect—don’t let this go to your head, idiotic girl—and with each of my successes in raising you I found myself a little more attached.

                “And when you took your NEWTs, I knew the time had come to let you go. And still I found I could not. I took too long to send you away. I was selfish, and I wanted to keep you as long as possible. It wasn’t until it was too dangerous for you to stay that I finally sent you away—even though that is when we most needed you there. I refused to let you be a part of our fight, because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt. And still every day I ached to ask you to return. It was easier for me not to contact you.”

                A thousand incomplete thoughts raced through Hattie’s mind at the confession. The whys, the hows, the what-ifs. Even within Severus’ speech she could see the similarities between them, the similar thought processes, the similar logic.

                In some ways she wished he was her father.

                In some ways, he already was.

                That’s what she said, too. “I have always thought of you as my father. You know that’s what you were to me, right?”

                He was quiet for a beat too long, and then he nodded, his face solemn. “I know.”

                “You didn’t want to be, though,” she murmured. It wasn’t a question, but he nodded again. “I don’t understand why. If you—felt that way about me, I mean.”

                “Oh, Hattie,” Severus sighed, and steepled his fingers. She felt like a little girl as he looked at her, like he was trying to figure out how to explain a maths problem to her. They spent a long time just staring at each other. She noticed that he’d lost a little weight since she left—probably because, for as good as he was at cooking, he wasn’t very fond of doing it. Without her, he probably wouldn’t have bothered doing it much. “I loved your mother,” Severus finally said, once the silence had drawn on so long she’d almost forgotten her question.

                “You did?” Hattie asked, surprised. Of course she knew that Severus had known her parents—that they’d gone to school together. Moony had told her as much, and Aunt Petunia had mentioned it in passing. And Severus’ own stories spoke of his friendship with Lily. But she hadn’t known he’d been _that_ close to her mother.

                “Yes. Lily was my best friend, my only friend, for many years. But…I made a lot of mistakes as a child, mistakes she couldn’t look past—I don’t blame her, anymore. And in the end she loved your father.” Severus looked like he was lost in another time.

                “And you didn’t like him,” Hattie added, a little meekly. The corner of his mouth twitched up.

                “I suppose that blasted wolf has been talking to you. No, James Potter and his band of hooligans were not my favorite people. We didn’t get along. They were bullies, and I was a very good target.”

                “That doesn’t excuse it!” Hattie cried, feeling indignant. She didn’t like the idea that her biological father had been a bully. It didn’t fit with the picture in her head.

                “No, it doesn’t—but oftentimes teenagers make mistakes. If your father were here today I believe he would have grown past it, just as your Remus has, and just as I have. Besides, I was not very nice as a child either. I no longer hold any grudges over your father,” Severus explained, his gaze heavy as it fell on her. “Because I loved Lily, and she loved him, and together they gave me you.”

                Hattie’s mouth was dry. “But you don’t want to be my father.”

                “Hattie, that is the thing I want the most in the world,” Severus responded immediately, shaking his head. She could almost hear him say _foolish girl_ in that fond, half-annoyed tone he sometimes got. “Each time I look at you I am reminded of what I could not have. When you were little I often imagined what you would have been like should you have been my own.”

                A small, sneaky smile stole over Hattie’s face. “I probably would not have been very pretty.”

                Severus snorted. “No, probably not. And as you grew I realized it was probably better you didn’t share my blood. All the best things I could offer you could be learned, and all the worst things were those that are inherited.”

                “And I learned well,” Hattie said softly, thinking of all the ways they were similar.

                “And you learned well,” Severus agreed. “But you also inherited. That is another thing I see when I look at you. James Potter—not just his looks, but his mannerisms. Your athleticism, that came from him. The way you run your hands through your hair. You enjoy mischief—”

                “I do not!” Hattie denied, her voice going slightly shrill.

                “Yes, you do,” Severus rolled his eyes. “You once turned Mrs. Figg’s cat blue and tried to convince me it was an accident. One summer you cut all of the buds off your aunt’s flower bushes as soon as they appeared for weeks just to watch her inspect them, wondering why they weren’t blooming. Just because you pretend you do not like mischief, does not mean I don’t know the truth.”

                Hattie flushed, trying to hide her pleasure. Those things were both true. She’d also hidden all of Severus’ books with the word ‘the’ in the title once. He noticed near immediately, but it took him days to find them. A separate time, she’d magiced all of his books so that the spines faced the wall. It hadn’t taken her long because her magic did her bidding, but Severus, a wand-user, had to replace them all one by one—he hadn’t been happy about that one. It made her happy to know that he remembered these times, those fickle little moments when she’d been childish and carefree between her studies.

                “Well, that cat was a git anyways,” Hattie pointed out. “He never liked me and always tried to scratch me. And my aunt deserved it.”

                “My point still stands,” said Severus dryly. “But of course your mother is there, too. Most days you remind me of her more than him. Your facial expressions—the way you hold yourself—your voice, and the way you joke. The way you hold your books when you read, your handwriting, your laugh. This, combined with the things I see from myself—your gait, your accent, your manner of speech, and so on. What I see when I look at you is the child we could have had, but never did.”

                “But I am yours, more than I was theirs.” Hattie’s voice dropped to a mere whisper as she said these words. “You taught me everything I know. The man that raises is more the father than the man who shares his blood.”

                “It took me a long time to come to the same conclusion,” Severus muttered. “And yet still I keep things from you—important things. I can’t explain it all to you myself, as I don’t know the whole story—and I promised the wolf he would be here when I did.”

                Hattie recalled Moony saying, last night, something quite similar. _There are still things you don’t know. Things about the war we still have to tell you. But it’s still not safe. It’s something we’ll have to do in person._ From this, she inferred that ‘the wolf’ was Remus, and that, combined with his nickname, ‘Moony’, gave her a sudden realization.

                “Moony is a werewolf?” she asked aloud, frowning at Severus. He looked at her, surprised.

                “You didn’t know,” he stated, and frowned back at her. “I didn’t mean to ‘out’ him, so to speak.”

                “I don’t know why he didn’t tell me himself,” Hattie groused, tapping her fingers irritably on the table. They hadn’t exactly had a bunch of time to chat with each other, but that was still an important piece of information.

                “I imagine he was embarrassed,” Severus said. “He spent a long time fearing the backlash of what it meant to be a werewolf. I thought he sent you a letter?”

                “He did,” Hattie sighed. “But it didn’t say anything about that.”

                “He said he told you your father and his friends were Animagi,” Severus prompted.

                “He _did_ ,” Hattie repeated.

                “Strange that he would leave out the entire reason they became Animagi. Did you know that werewolves do not attack Animagi—even when they are in their human form?” Severus asked. “His friends became Animagi so that they could…enjoy the full moon together, from what I gather. And it gave them protection against all werewolves.”

                “So why don’t more people become Animagi?” Hattie asked. “If it offers that sort of protection, wouldn’t it be invaluable?”

                “It would,” Severus nodded. “But it’s difficult—and for some, impossible. However, I have a theory that for you and people who use magic the way you do, it will be a much easier process. Minerva told me it took her two years to master her transformation, and Remus said it took his friends a similar amount of time.”

                “Why do you think it’ll be easier for me?” she wondered. She had hopes that he was right, of course—if the process was simpler for her, then logically it would be quicker, which would ease everything else along.

                “Perhaps I should bring the others back in before we have this conversation,” Severus suggested. “There is a reason I’m here, after all, and I do have a bit of a time limit.”

                Hattie was reluctant to bring others back into what she’d imagined was her own private bubble with Severus. He had never been this open with her before, and she didn’t want it to end. That being said, they both had responsibilities. So after a moment, she nodded.

                “Thank you for surprising me,” she said, as he stood to go fetch them.

                “You shouldn’t thank me,” Severus murmured. “I was only being selfish.”

                “It made me happy, anyways,” Hattie looked up from under her lashes, smiling a little shyly.

                “It made me happy, too, you foolish girl,” Severus chuckled, and left the room.

                She watched him go, looking around the room properly. There was the door to the corridor Hattie had come through, and wide windows, but the room itself was pretty plain. There were no decorations. The table and chairs were the only furniture, though the room itself was rather large. It was almost like a ballet studio or a martial arts dojo, long, with wooden floors. The windows continued down the length of the room. The table was set at one end of the room, and the rest of the room was empty. The door Severus disappeared through seemed to lead to a staircase, but the angle made it difficult for Hattie to see for sure.

                After a few moments, Severus returned, leading a gaggle of teenagers. He looked like a school teacher so much for a moment that it gave Hattie flashbacks to the dreams she’d been having of boy-Hattie—Harry. She mentally shook herself out of it, watching the procession carefully. As she’d noticed before, there were five boys and four girls—with her, there was an even ten. It seemed planned, and, knowing Severus, it likely was.

                Were these the troops Moony had spoken of? At first, Hattie wasn’t sure how ten teenagers could be considered ‘troops’. Then, as they all filled the room, she realized.

                Each and every one of them was wandless. Their magic mingled in the air, mixing, creating a feeling in the room that was intoxicating to Hattie. The sheer amount of idle magic was incredible—she had never felt something like that before. Everyone seemed to be feeling the same thing, which explained the giddy conversation she’d interrupted earlier, the pent up energy they all seemed to exude. It made Hattie jittery and excited in the best kind of way.

                Even with the way that each magic mixed, she could still trace each separate trail to its owner. It was difficult to describe, given that the magic wasn’t tangible—it wasn’t even visible. In fact, Severus didn’t seem to notice it at all; this was something Hattie had noticed about wand-users, they couldn’t _feel_ magic as wandless mages did. But Hattie, and all of her friends who wielded magic the way she did, could _sense_ the magic in the air.

                Each strand of magic was like a signature. Magic itself wasn’t an aura, but it lent to the aura—again, difficult to explain. For example, Severus’ aura was dark and broody, with the same electric spark that all wizards had. He felt like regret and anger and strength, and underneath, a blossom of hope. The things his magic touched implied all of this without actually saying it, and yet somehow still screamed _SEVERUS SNAPE._

                In the same way, the girl who sat down next to Hattie felt like summer, like the patience it took to grow a garden, like the sizzle of electricity just before a thunderstorm, like the aching want for hope and peace and rest. And her magic, a resilient force that caressed the air lazily, but surely, felt like all of that—and at the same time, none of it. It just felt like that girl. It was like signing your name on something. If Hattie knew the girl’s name, her magic would just feel like her signature. As it was, the magic she exuded dragged a shadowy copy of her face into Hattie’s mind.

                Curiously, mixed into the cacophony of magic Hattie had never felt before were a trio that she recognized. It took her brain, foggy with the mix of so much magic, a moment to piece together what she was feeling. Then her head snapped up, searching out the trails her magic _knew_ , her eyes alighting upon three bodies across the table from her.  They looked different from the last time she saw them—but then, it’d been half a decade. For teenagers, that was a long time.

                Hermione looked the most different. Her wild, bushy lion’s mane had been tamed into huge curls. (Somehow, they still resembled a lion’s mane.) But she’d grown, and she was a woman now, no longer all elbows and knees like a twelve year old. She must’ve had braces at some point, for her buckteeth were straight and perfect. Her ears were pierced now. She was dressed like a muggle—they all were, it was a universal truth of their generation—in comfortable-looking skinny jeans and a t-shirt with a logo on it.

                Ronald was _tall._ He’d always been tall, even at eleven, but now he must’ve been over six foot. He was slim, and freckly, and he looked just like his brother Bill. She remembered that they’d always looked up to Bill as children, and now here Ron was, looking just the same, freckles and a long nose that somehow suited his face. He was wearing a maroon sweater with his initial on it, but instead of looking like a dorky child, it made him look even more like a grown adult.

                And then there was Neville. Sweet Neville. Neville who Hattie used to have a crush on—the small, slightly pudgy boy whose grandmother was fond of pushing them together. While the adults had their meetings, Neville and Hattie would spend hours in the greenhouse, pruning plants. This Neville was not so different. He was taller, and no longer pudgy, his shoulders wide. Even now he looked at her with fond, slightly shy eyes, which made affection bubble in her chest. He was wearing what she could only describe as a ‘grandpa sweater’—it even had patches on the elbows.

                Seeing the three of them there took her back to that summer day, taking turns holding Cecelia under the willow tree. In some ways, that felt more like home than Severus did—those carefree days before they’d all been too afraid. When she met their eyes, she could see that all of them felt the same way; it was like staring into mirrors of her own soul. A generation of witches and wizards so downtrodden by the regime that they lived for the memory of a time they were happy together.

                Almost without knowing how she got there, Hattie found herself stood amongst the three of them, their arms around each other. They were laughing, but they were also crying—the tears were those of happiness, excitement, but also something much more sorrowful: loss, and pain, and sadness. They were the tears of understanding. Nobody in the world knew her pain the way these people did.

                After all, her pain was also their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! Finally! Finally, finally! Here's your chapter 28, and the brief introduction of some of our side-characters / characters for this next long haul! :) I hesitate to call them side-characters (especially Neville, Hermione, and Ron, and Severus) but they're not truly main characters and the plot doesn't revolve around them soooo :P 
> 
> Tell me how you liked it! Tweet me! ETC!   
> Seeya next time~


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter **@QueenBuzzle**! 
> 
> Alright! A few notes:
> 
> 1.) OCs. 6 of them. Don't worry about their huge physical descriptions (remember I wrote this for my own entertainment so it's like, cringey) and just try to remember their names. But if you can't, don't worry about that either because I reiterate them several more times in other chapters before I finally got them myself. (More notes on this at the end.)
> 
> 2.) I know now that there is an actual formula to becoming an animagus, but when I wrote this particular chapter, I only knew about the mandrake leaf. So that's kind of a glaring plothole but in future chapters this mistake is rectified and we follow the actual process.
> 
> 3.) We see the full letter Hermione sent Hattie from Chapter 7. :)

_"I know that the whole point—the only point—is to find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go." —Lauren Oliver_

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                As soon as everyone was settled back into chairs—too quickly for Hattie’s liking—Severus began speaking, stood at the head of the table. He was imposing, enrapturing the whole room, _demanding_ attention. Even Hattie could not peel her eyes away from him. Perhaps she could sense that what he was going to say was important, or perhaps it was just his own personality that kept her focused.

                “For those of you who arrived late,” he began, voice echoing in the empty room, “Welcome to the Lycan’s Thorn.”

                A few hushed whispers were exchanged, but nobody seemed exceedingly surprised, so Hattie knew this was for her benefit.

                “For the coming weeks, should you choose to join us—though your presence today tells me that most of you have decided already—this will be your base of operations. You will train and learn here. Some of you have met already, or know each other, but I will quickly introduce you all to each other.”

                Starting from Hattie, Severus motioned. She was used to years of secrecy, of never sharing her real name, so she wasn’t surprised when he said, “This is Hattie Swan.” Still, she was a bit gobsmacked when he continued, “She is the leader of this group. In the interim, when I or the others are not around, any questions should be fielded directly to her.”

                Of course Moony had called them _her_ troops, but she hadn’t expected to be told to lead them—she had no experience. She looked at Severus searchingly, and his serious eyes focused briefly on her, giving her an almost imperceptible nod. So she straightened her shoulders and waved her hand slightly, feeling inadequate for the position she was being given, yet trying to hide it.

                Hattie was sat directly to the right of Severus at the head of the table. He turned to his left, to continue clockwise around the table, and introduced Hermione next. “This is Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Ronald Weasley. These last months they have been in the thick of the battle alongside the Order of the Phoenix.”

                She did a doubletake at their stoic looks. When Severus said those words, Hattie could see the truth of them on each of her friends’ faces. They had fought. Perhaps in the battle for Diagon, or the battle for the Ministry—or both. A sense of pride welled up within her for them, but also worry.

                Severus nodded to the man next to Ronald. He was tall and athletically built—though he must’ve been only 6’1 or so, his energy and boisterousness made him seem seven feet tall. But he had a boyish face and he seemed young, with a playful spirit you could almost read in his green eyes. His thick brown hair was a little over-long and wild around his head. A couple tufts stood up almost perfectly to mimic puppy ears. He had very tan skin, as if he spent all of his days rolling around under the summer sun—which didn’t seem entirely unlikely. He wore comfortably worn jeans and an emerald green sweater that would’ve been exceedingly handsome, but had a couple of holes in the collar and sleeves. “This is Archer Whitborn, of the Modoc lycanthropes.”

                Archer gave an over-excited wave, grinning a smile that was all teeth.

                “Lydia Farland,” Severus was continuing, motioning to the girl next to Archer. She was smaller, and voluptuous, her facial features almost seductive. She had large eyes the color of black coffee, offset by her cream-colored skin and blond hair. It was a strange combination Hattie had never seen before. Her hair, waist-length and slightly curling, was worn in a careless, messy half-up style. Her lips were puffy—pouty—and the angle of her nose and chin were incredibly attractive. Even on this slightly chilly March day, she wore a baggy crop-top and high-waisted jeans.

                Across from Lydia, on Hattie’s side of the table, was a woman who looked like a wandering spirit. She was tall and thin with pale skin, her wide eyes so pale they might have been white. Her hair was fine and pale brown, and fell pin-straight and blunt to her shoulders, so much so that it almost resembled a hood. She wore a very severe dress almost like a wizard’s robes, white, that made her look both innocent and exceedingly unapproachable. Severus introduced her as Yisri Silverlight.

                After Yisri was a burly, handsome young man named Wulfric Plaincross. Whereas Archer seemed like an overgrown puppy, Wulfric was a stoic, careful wolf. He had deep-set eyes like two pools of mercury. His dreadlocks were black, pulled into a thick bundle at the back of his head, a few locs falling into his face. His wide shoulders and heavy muscles made him seem larger, but he must’ve only been average height. His dark skin was closer to black than brown. He had a masculine jawline and nose, but they were almost…pretty? Wulfric wore his white button-down tucked into his slacks, like he was in a business meeting.

                To the right of Wulfric was a boy named Noah Lee. He was boyishly masculine and of Asian descent. His brow was heavy, his jaw a perfect V, with puffy, slightly pouty lips. His eyes, almond-shaped, were dark brown. He had a slim build and reminded Hattie a little bit of a cat. He wore all black, an over-sized black sweater over black skinny jeans with black shoes. The entire time Professor was speaking, he held a book in his hand—it was closed around his thumb, but he’d obviously been reading it shortly beforehand.

                And finally, sat right next to Hattie—the girl who felt like summer and patience and hope. She was a soft, beautiful young woman. Elsie Bellebloom. She had gentle brown eyes that always seemed to appear a little bit concerned. Her skin was nutbrown and flawless, and her dark hair was wild, kinky-curly, free about her head. When the sunlight from the window hit it just right, there were caramel highlights in it. Elsie, somehow, looked the most like a muggle out of anyone in the room, for no particular reason. She wore soft black leggings and a long, loose gold top—not unlike Hattie’s own outfit.

                And that was them—ten teenagers, five boys and five girls. Hattie, Hermione, Neville, Ronald, Archer, Lydia, Yisri, Wulfric, Noah, and Elsie. But what ‘them’ was had not been defined yet. Hattie looked around at all of these wandless wizards and felt a fondness in her heart.

                “You are all vastly different people, and yet you are all the same. All of you spent your formative years living under the tyranny of the regime, learning magic in secret and wielding it wandlessly,” Severus intoned. His voice itself held a weight to it. She looked around and found all of her companions were captured by his speech. “You have all been inducted into the Order of the Phoenix, privy to the information of our victories. You know that we took back Diagon Alley, and now the Ministry. But still there is a long way to go before we can hope to defeat the regime.

                “Due to the nature of your upbringing, each of you is the perfect soldier for our cause. You are powerful and wise beyond your years. It is shameful that your lives have had to be this way thus far, but we are striving to create a better future for our people. For that reason, we are asking that you train to join us in our fight.”

                Severus paused here, looking at each one of them. Hattie had never seen him make such serious eye contact with other teenagers—like he respected them, or cared for them. His eyes finally settled on her, taking on a slightly pained quality, and he held her gaze as he continued his speech, as if it was for her alone.

                “It will be dangerous. What we are asking you to do is not a decision to make lightly—and should any of you back out at any time, I would not think any less of you. Our largest obstacle has always been infiltrating Hogwarts, a stronghold nearly inaccessible to the enemies of those who hold it. Hogwarts will be the turning point in the war against the regime. Your task will be infiltration and liberation.”

                Hattie’s heart began pounding heavily in her chest. Hogwarts had been her dream her entire childhood. The idea of a place where children went to learn magic freely was a fantasy for her and others like her. Even knowing that it was currently overrun with dark wizards, being used as a base for the regime, full of prisoners…this didn’t strike fear into her heart. Somehow, the knowledge that Severus was asking her to go to Hogwarts…it felt _right._ She gave a steely nod, already set. The idea of Harry and his ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ flitted briefly across her mind.

                “How are we going to do it?” Yisri asked from down the table, sounding almost bored. “If an army of grown wizards cannot.”

                Hattie knew the answer immediately, without having to be told. Severus opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted before he could. “We are going to become Animagi.”

                Pride filtered across Severus’ face and he nodded once, motioning to her. She stood, facing her companions—her troops—and stared them down. Hattie was not a very intimidating person, but she didn’t need to be. Suddenly all of the answers were falling into her head as if she’d known them all along.

                “We are powerful,” she said, looking around at them all. “You can feel it, can’t you? It is… _intoxicating._ There has never been a generation of wizards quite like us. Professor—Severus—told me he had a theory, and now I think I know what it is. Because of the way we use magic, becoming Animagi will be vastly easier for us. We understand better how our magic affects us and our surroundings, so it will be easier to learn to change ourselves from the start.”

                “How does that help us infiltrate Hogwarts?” Hermione asked, her eyes calculating. “Even if we’re animagi, surely there are other obstacles.”

                Severus nodded. “There are plenty of obstacles. That’s why you will be training here. You will have to learn not only to become animagi, but to duel, offensive and defensive magics, cursebreaking. Let me set you straight right now. We are not asking you to dismantle Hogwarts yourselves. Your priority would be freeing prisoners. There are many that we know of, and I’m sure many that we don’t. A secondary goal may be dismantling the wards—but only if it is safe to do so. We will use the intel you learn and the intel of the prisoners to mount an attack on Hogwarts when the time comes.”

                “What if we could kill You-Know-Who?” Ronald’s voice was almost eager as he sat forward. The moniker he used was one Hattie had heard people say in whispers before, but typically their alliance called him ‘the Dark Wizard’—Severus, and Hattie in turn, believed that calling someone what they were was more powerful than hiding from a name. The Weasleys were one of the few families in their alliance too afraid of his wrath to name him a Dark Wizard.

                “You cannot.” Severus responded, his voice hard, no room for argument. “It would be foolish to try.”

                “Because of the prophecy?” Lydia had a distinctly Irish accent. “My mam says the prophecy was done when the Potters were killed.”

                Hattie’s eyebrows raised, but she fought to show no emotion on her face. Of course she had heard of this so-called ‘prophecy’. Not only in real life, but in her dreams of Harry’s world. It spoke of a child who could defeat the Dark Wizard, ‘as neither could live while the other survives’. In Harry’s world, he had been marked as the Dark Wizard’s equal, a lightning bolt scar across his brow.

                But in real life the prophecy had nothing to do with the Potters. The prophesied child was male, and the Potters’ only child was female…herself. Neville could’ve been the prophesied child—he was born at the right time (the day before Hattie), but the Dark Wizard hadn’t marked him, only tortured his parents into insanity. Hattie believed perhaps the prophecy had been a false prophecy, or was being misinterpreted, but she and Severus never talked about it. And, when she was with her alliance, there were many more important things to talk about than a vague prophecy.

                “Some people say the Potter child survived,” protested Elsie in her calm voice.

                “That’s a bedtime story mothers tell their children to make them feel better,” Yisri’s bored voice came again.

                “You can’t possibly know that!” Lydia said angrily. “Besides, what’s wrong with having a little hope?”

                “There’s nothing wrong with that. And I like those stories,” Archer responded, grinning.

                “I’ve not heard the stories—my parents are muggles,” Hermione said. “I’d like to hear more about it though.”

                Severus, his face flecked with worry, tried to call the group to attention. He kept glancing at Hattie apprehensively. She wondered what the issue was, why he was worried about a little speculation.

And then someone said it.

                “They call him ‘The Boy-Who-Lived,’” Ronald said, leaning around Neville to speak to Hermione.

                The conversation probably continued after that, but that sentence echoed around in Hattie’s skull, blocking everything else out. Of course she had heard it before, in her dreams. That’s what people called Harry. Maybe she had heard the phrase before, and some part of her subconscious clung onto it and recycled it in her dreams. Maybe she had…prophetic dreams? She dreamed of Moony, and Moony wrote her a letter. She dreamed of the Boy-Who-Lived, and now they were talking about him.

                But in her head, she was hearing, _The prophecy ended when the Potters died…some people say the Potter child survived…they call him ‘The Boy-Who-Lived’…_

Except she didn’t have a brother. And she was a girl.

                Unbidden, the memory of the picture Moony sent her showed up in her mind. Her parents cradling a baby dressed in a blue Babygro.

                _Had_ her parents had a baby boy? _Did_ she have a brother? If this was the case—there were no pictures of the two of them together. Nobody seemed to know about a baby girl. Charlie had certainly never mentioned it, and neither had Professor, nor Moony.

                Or had they?

                _There are still things you don’t know. Things about the war we still have to tell you._

_And yet still I keep things from you—important things._

                She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring wide-eyed at the table, before the hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it. There had been so many secrets for so long—it shouldn’t feel so world-wrecking to know there was more. Still, as she looked up into Severus’ eyes, they both knew that she felt betrayed.

                “I’ll contact Remus,” he said, his voice low. She couldn’t meet his eyes, instead looking around the room. The others were already pulling on jackets, knapsacks, chatting about heading into New Lummi. “Hattie, I promise you, this is the last secret. As soon as we can, you will know.”

                “I want to know now,” Hattie demanded. But her words were weak. She didn’t expect to win this battle.

                “I know you do. But I can’t,” Severus told her, his grip tightening on her shoulder. “Trust me that whatever you are thinking is as far from the truth as physically possible.”

                “I’m thinking you’re hiding things from me,” Hattie hissed, very aware of the group in her peripheral. “I’m thinking that everyone else knows some secret about _my family_ that I don’t know. I’m thinking that I’m confused and hurt and I’m thinking, I have a brother.”

                “You do not have a brother,” Severus stated, surely. Hattie searched his eyes, which were holding back so many emotions. The conclusion she came to was that whoever this boy was, he was dead.

                “Contact me when you are ready to tell me the truth,” Hattie stated, pushing back from the table. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and jogged to catch up with her new companions, melding into the throng of teenagers as naturally as if she’d known them her whole life.

—x—

                Hermione, Ron, and Neville parted to let her join their trio. The whole group was gathered near the stairwell, weighed down with bags and jackets. Somehow, without anybody telling her, Hattie knew they would all take up the mission that had been offered to them. Perhaps it was because she saw something of herself in each of them; a shared longing for a better future, a shared sorrow for the past. She saw Cedric in Hermione, Ron, and Neville—she saw a memory of him that nobody else would ever have, the way the sun lit his hazel eyes as he gazed down at Cecelia. She saw summer days taken far too soon, of a loss that was inexplicable to those who had never felt it.

                But all ten of them had felt a similar pain. They’d all lost someone. To the regime, they’d felt a loss perhaps even greater than death—a loss of heritage, of culture, of tradition, stolen from them. Each and every one of them had lost their freedom. But she refused to be oppressed anymore. There was victory in her heart and an ache for a future she knew she could achieve.

                With all of them looking at her, Hattie gave what she imagined was quite a bloodthirsty smile. And she spoke with a surety she’d never had before. “My friends, we are the legacy of the wand-users. We are the legacy that the regime forced us to become. And through us, we will leave a legacy for the future of our people—a legacy of resilience, of strength, of pain and sorrow and hope—and most of all, a legacy of magic. Never again will we be downtrodden—never again will we be oppressed.”

                “They will write our names in the history books,” Elsie said quietly, from beside her. Hattie and all of her new friends gave a raucous cheer. There was an overwhelming feeling of camaraderie as their magic mingled, twisting, unbeknownst to wand-users.

                “There has never been anything like us before!” Hattie called over the cacophony. “Let us leave a legacy of power in our footsteps!”

                 Just like that, the position she wasn’t sure she should have— _leader—_ settled naturally onto her shoulders as everyone else fell around her. She climbed up the stairs of The Lycan’s Thorn, flanked on both sides by her oldest friends, leading her new ones. It felt _right._ It felt _true._

                It felt like hope.

                They spilled out onto the main floor of The Lycan’s Thorn. Hattie hadn’t been sure of what to expect of the building—it was obviously private, as they were using it as a meeting room. Now, as she glanced around, she was even more confused. They were in what appeared to be a lobby of some sort…or a tavern? As if sensing her confusion, Archer glanced up.

                “I forgot you didn’t come through here,” he chirped, motioning to the lobby. His puppy-like hair bounced as he moved. “This is the Modoc Pack building. We call it the Lycan’s Thorn for obvious reasons.”

                _Obvious reasons—_ because his aura felt like boundless, excited energy, like the forest bathed under the full moon, like loyalty. From each other, they could hide no magical secret; any affliction could be read upon them as an open book. Archer, and the Modoc Pack, were werewolves—true lycanthropes.

                “The pack is big enough to warrant an entire building?” Hattie asked curiously, looking around.

                “Yeah, we’re the biggest pack in the US,” Archer shrugged. “My uncle is the alpha. He brought me here when the regime killed my parents.”

                “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, honestly. “The regime killed mine, too.”

                “Yeah—well, we all have our hurts,” Archer said, giving her a puppy-like grin. “That’s why we’re here, right?”

                The others all murmured affirmatives as Archer, the only member not carrying a bag, motioned to the doors. “Do you want to explore New Lummi?”

                “I’ve never been to a wizarding settlement,” Elsie said brightly, turning a warm grin on Hattie. “Have you?”

                Most of them hadn’t. Archer, living in New Lummi, had. Hermione, Neville, and Ron had been at the Battle for Diagon, and had helped rebuild Diagon in the aftermath, though that wasn’t quite the same. Everyone else had lived on the fringe of wizarding society, operating in secret, living mostly in the muggle world—as was the norm for British wizards these days.

                So Archer lead them out the doors and into New Lummi. It wasn’t just an alley, or a settlement, but a sprawling wizarding city located in a hidden pocket of Seattle. There were apartment buildings, houses, businesses, restaurants, parks, even grocery stores. Wand-users strolled by walking crups, owls flew overhead, children on brooms zoomed past. The smooth streets were free of cars, and instead there were carriages pulled by horses. Some, even, were pulled by skeletal winged horses she knew were Thestrals.

                “I’ve never seen a Thestral before,” whispered Hattie, wide-eyed. She had always speculated on whether or not they would be visible to her eye—technically, she knew, she’d seen death, but she didn’t remember it. Apparently, it counted, because before her the beings were an inescapable sight.

                It was with a start that she realized each of her companions could see them too. Archer was no stranger to the gentle beasts, given they were used to pull carriages in New Lummi, but the other eight were staring—in some cases curiously, in some cases pale-faced.

                “What’s a Thestral?” Noah demanded. His book had been tucked into his bag and he seemed uncomfortable without it, slinking around like a cat. “That skeleton horse thing?”

                “Yes,” Hermione whispered. She was one of those whose face was as pale as a corpse, clearly remembering whatever horrors she’d seen in battle. “You can only see them if you’ve seen death.”

                “I’m so used to it, I didn’t think it would be weird for you guys,” Archer said, a little blasé. “But I think it was hard for me at first too. It was my parents. Every time I saw the Thestrals, that’s all I was reminded of.”

                “My parents, too—and their friend,” Hattie said after a moment. Though she couldn’t remember the deaths, except in a vague, dreamlike way, it was still haunting.

                “My sister—” Lydia cut herself off, and shook her head sternly. “Of course, it was the regime.”

                Soon everyone was sharing. It was a wave of firsts that set them apart from their peers—and yet, it was one more thing that adhered them to each other, for better or worse. For Wulfric, it was his grandparents. Noah’s best friend. Elsie’s neighbor. Hermione, Ron, and Neville saw many people on both sides die following the Battle for Diagon and the Battle for the Ministry.

                Yisri was the last to share, staring solemnly at the Thestral that was nearly out of view. Then, in her monotone, she said, “My entire family was killed by the regime.”

                _Well, we all have our hurts,_ Archer had said—and how right he’d been.

                New Lummi was a fantastic place, Thestrals aside. Most shops accepted Hattie’s muggle debit card, which was lucky. Even though there was a Gringotts branch here, she didn’t know how to access her vaults, and she really didn’t want to ask Severus right now. She lost herself in a bookstore with Hermione and Noah for over an hour before someone came to fish them out, and left laden down with books. She had never had _new_ magic books before—all of hers were nearly as old as she was.

                In a Wizarding Outfitters store she found, she and Yisri tried on wizarding robes. Yisri’s mother had been a seamstress, apparently, so she was no stranger to wearing robes. Hattie had a good giggle about wearing them, though, and even forced a smile out of the stoic Yisri when she needed help putting them on. She left the store empty-handed.

                There were many stores she didn’t get to enter, though she wished she could’ve: a broomstick seller, a battle armory, a joke shop, a candy store. Strangely, seeing the wand shop was an unexpected treat, even though she knew that most wizards were wand-users. It was an interesting phenomena; because she had never been in a wizarding society, she’d completely forgotten you needed to _buy_ a wand. Hers—her mother’s—had been passed down to Hattie, and though it didn’t work for her, there was some part of her that just assumed that’s how most wizards acquired their wands.

                Through the window Hattie watched a young girl get fitted for her first wand and felt sort of sad for her. From Hattie’s perspective, however dreamlike it may be, being strapped down to a wand seemed like a waste of potential. There were so many things you could achieve effortlessly without it that wand-users worked for years to accomplish.

                Finally, several blocks from The Lycan’s Thorn was an apothecary. It was rather small, and crammed full of shelves upon shelves of potions ingredients. Plants, bugs, animal parts, soils, rocks, gemstones, precious metals—various powders that could’ve been any of those things or a mixture of all of them. Hattie volunteered to fetch the necessary ingredients herself, eager to lose herself amongst the shelves.

                Being within the apothecary was almost like being in the bookstore. She’d never seen so many ingredients before. Severus had plenty stored, but not like this—these were things they both had only dreamed of getting their hands on. Powdered unicorn horn, hippogriff feathers, various venoms—things you couldn’t just get from a garden, things you had to find someone to sell you. She was tempted to buy so many different things, but she had no reason to—nor a way to store them. They’d only go bad within her trunk, waiting to be used. So, subdued, Hattie bought _only_ the necessary ingredients, staring wistfully around the shop one last time before joining her friends.

—x—

                “Remus gave me this for you,” Hermione’s soft voice came from slightly behind Hattie as they all made their way back to the Lycan’s Thorn. The others were ahead in small groups—Yisri and Wulfric walked quietly together, close enough that their elbows touched. Archer walked between Neville and Ron, which was a surprising sight: though he seemed so large in hindsight, he was shorter than both boys. Lydia and Elsie walked together, Noah slightly in front of them, being guided by their movements (his nose, once again, pressed into the pages of a book).

                Hattie and Hermione had been walking in companionable silence. The years apart drifted between them like a vast ocean. There were too many things either of them could say, too much new and not enough of the same, that it was overwhelming to catch up. The last they’d met, Hattie wasn’t even a teenager. Now they were both young women with years’ worth of stories and memories neither had experienced together. Though Hattie had been aching to see her old friends, it was startling to realize how time had touched even the deepest friendships.

                Now, looking up at the taller girl, Hattie gave a soft smile. Still—there were familiarities about Hermione that would never change. The same wild, curly hair (tamed now, less of a bush and more of a fierce mane), the same way her smile creased her cheeks, the same head-strong set of her shoulders. And the way she spoke, the way she took in everything around her with a sense of wonder, a thirst for knowledge.

                Perhaps it would take time to acquaint herself with this new, physical Hermione—but the words they’d shared, written hastily on notebook paper in smudged ink, or markers, or pencil…that was how she remembered her friend:

_Dearest Hattie (whose silence worries me daily),_

_Our allies assure me of your continued health, and though we are all busy and careful these days, I find myself thinking of you often. As you know I haven’t many friends at school, and even fewer of the feminine variety; though Ginny and Luna are lovely, I find myself missing your banter._

_Today I learned I was accepted into both Cambridge and Oxford. It comes as such a relief to know that despite my split focus all of these years, my hard work has paid off. I’m not sure yet what I would study or where I shall find myself, but now I know I have the choice._

_Still, moving on from McGonagall is bittersweet. I’ve spent the majority of my formative years under her tutelage and she is a fine professor, it seems a shame to leave her. I’ve grown very fond of her over these years (a fondness, I’m sure, you share). I have many fears regarding moving on without her. I fear I might regret choosing to leave her—I fear I might regret it were I not to leave. I fear no matter what I choose, she will be somewhat disappointed. I know she has high hopes for me._

_I fear it all might one day seem a dream, were I to move on in the muggle world and never pursue a mastery. I know logically that most of our people think there is no future in the wizarding world…I can’t believe that. One day I might have children like me, and the thought that they will only ever experience the secrecy and terror that I have felt these last eleven years—it haunts me. I never want to forget the things McGonagall has taught me._

_Recently there’ve been rumors throughout the community about a rebel group called the Order of the Phoenix. A few of our acquaintances are supposedly running it. I’m thinking about seeing what I can offer them._

_Snape has just arrived to retrieve my letter—so I shall end it here._

_Merry Part, Hattie._

_With Love,_

_Hermione_

                Even now, it was like Hattie could see the girl behind the letters in Hermione’s eyes, read _dearest Hattie_ in the expression on her face. The emotion, though palpable now—written in the sentiments in Hermione’s face rather than read through scrawled handwriting—was the same.

                Hermione came to a stop alongside Hattie, holding out a parchment envelope. They huddled together as Hattie reached out to take it, feeling bemused.

                “Why didn’t he just send it along as usual?” she wondered, running her fingers over the familiar scratch of her name written in Moony’s handwriting. He, like Severus, had the same calligraphy-esque writing of those trained to write with quills: each letter was sort of attached, thicker on the down-stroke and thinner on the up-stroke.

                “It made more sense to send it along with us,” Hermione shrugged. “As we were coming to see you, anyways.”

                “Well—I appreciate it,” Hattie smiled, tucking it away into her bag. “I’m sure you understand the longing for news from loved ones.”

                Hermione’s astute eyes focused on Hattie, and she nodded once. “I do.”

                A prickly feeling of uncomfortableness fell over Hattie, and she felt guilty for a moment. She remembered the contents of her last letter to Hermione—nearly two months ago now. Though friendly, it had lacked substance. There was only so much she was able to share freely, and much of what had happened in her life at that point was not safe to share. Sometimes, lies of omission are worse than blatant lies; sometimes they felt like a much heavier betrayal.

                With this guilt in her mind, Hattie opened her mouth to choke out a sentence: “I wanted to share—”

                But Hermione, too, seemed to be feeling guilty, for at the same time, she said, “There were so many times—”

                They both stopped and looked at each other, equal parts embarrassment and affection. Hermione, seeming bashful, motioned Hattie to go on first.

                Still stopped on the sidewalk—the rest of the group far ahead of them now—Hattie spoke softly. “I wanted, so badly, to share details of my life with you. But there were things that weren’t safe for the people I was growing to love. I would have done anything to protect them, even if it meant pushing you all—my family—away from me.”

                “I know,” Hermione’s laugh was as soft as air, and bitter. “I know how the times were—are. I don’t blame you, Hattie, you have to know that. We all did what was best for those weaker than ourselves. But there were so many times I thought of you—whilst training, at school, even in battle. I must’ve written you a thousand letters in my head these past months.”

                Hattie surprised both of them by drawing the older girl into a strong, tight hug. It was a desperate thing; both of them held too tightly for it to be comfortable, and Hattie was sure she was stepping on Hermione’s foot, but the need to hold on to Hermione was akin to the need for air. The ghosts of all of their past encounters seemed tangible then: 5-and-6 year old Hattie and Hermione, reading side-by-side in her home; learning the art of potion-making together at 7-and-8; playing with magic at 8-and-9, being scolded by their teachers. And, brighter than all the others: their arms around each other’s neck, Hermione’s hair smushing into Hattie’s face, the summer of Cecelia. And underneath all of the memories, present day: two young women stopped on the sidewalk on a pleasant mid-March morning, holding onto each other as if letting go meant dying.

                When they separated, it was reluctantly, ribs aching with the force of their hug. Hattie’s eyes were misty, but Hermione’s tears were dribbling down her cheeks.

                “Hermione!” laughed Hattie disbelievingly, and quickly dabbed at her own eyes.

                “I can’t help it!” protested Hermione, who was also smiling. “You were my very first friend.”

                “You were mine as well,” agreed Hattie, solemnly.

                “I always thought of you as a sister,” Hermione shared, a little timidly. “We were so alike and yet so different—and even after I met the others, you were still my closest friend. Ginny and Luna, I think they were just too much younger than me at that point, and really we didn’t have much in common besides the obvious.”

                “And the boys were the boys,” Hattie chuckled, knowingly.

                “And not just that, but you knew the muggle world,” Hermione continued, dragging Hattie around to face the direction of the Lycan’s Thorn. Their friends had long since disappeared, and they set off to follow. “The others—they tried, of course they did, but you lived in the muggle world every day. Just like me. We were the same, in some ways.”

                “When you didn’t write me back, I worried for you,” Hattie murmured. Their elbows were linked, and she flexed her arm playfully to tighten it around Hermione’s. “But I knew you were okay, because Professor would’ve told me otherwise.”

                “We were in walks of life we had to keep secret from each other,” Hermione said, sagely. “I knew there was little point in sending a letter of pleasantries—we both knew they’d be lies. Just as you knew I was alright, I knew you were too. Severus would’ve been a wreck had something happened to you.”

                “But you’re here now,” Hattie pointed out. “I could tell you whatever I wanted.”

                “There’s so much,” Hermione sighed raggedly. It was a feeling Hattie understood deeply. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

                “I know,” Hattie murmured, but a sense of urgency bubbled within her and she spoke anyways, the need to connect with Hermione too great to ignore. “I’m living with my mother’s brother right now, my uncle. He has two children and they’re my best friends, my siblings. I go to muggle school and I have a boyfriend name Jacob. And every time I close my eyes I dream of the wizarding world. I love my new family very much but I always wonder about our alliance, because I love you all too.”

                It wasn’t enough—perhaps nothing she could say would ever be enough to breach their silence. But every story starts somewhere, and that was the beginning of the person she was striving to be. Whichever Hattie she was, this was the start of her: the story that softened the line between Potter and Swan, the story of her love for her family, her people, her culture.

                With a slightly lighter heart, Hattie allowed herself to be tugged along toward the Lycan’s Thorn, Hermione babbling away all the while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT. Okay. so.  
> A note about the OCs I've just introduced. I know there's a lot of them. Hattie's story in the next arc revolves a lot around the Lycan's Thorn and thus these characters. They're not very well-fleshed out. Because. They were not supposed to be OCs. 
> 
> They were supposed to be Shadowhunters. 
> 
> I'm sure you guys all caught the City of Bones reference in a previous chapter, if you're fans of the series. (Ave Atque Vale.) Even these OCs have Shadowhunter names (Silverlight, Whitborn, Bellebloom, Farland, Plaincross). But this was around when I decided to start posting the story, and I knew that it wouldn't get that much attention anyways, let alone if I introduced a third cross this late in the story. So I cut out the Shadowhuntery bits (which is a good thing because I don't know what I would have done with them) and so we're just left with these OCs.
> 
> If you hate OCs, don't worry too much. Though they feature heavily I wouldn't say they're "main characters." they're definitely not minor characters, but their only purpose is to push Hattie's story along (they don't have their own side-quests or anything...at least as of chapter 45. Who knows what will happen past that, but I have no plans for it.) 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! :D Follow me on Twitter **@QueenBuzzle**!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for no updates the last couple weeks. :) Here's an update and I'll probably post another one shortly.

_“You don't get anything without giving up something.” ―Sara Zarr_

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                Severus Snape leaned against the wall of the training room at the Lycan’s Thorn, his watchful eyes roaming over the group of teens before him. A wolf from the Modoc Pack was teaching them some self-defense in lieu of a magical lesson, since there wasn’t much time left in the day. It was clear to Severus, in the supple movements of their young bodies, that he’d chosen the correct members for this… _team._

                Each of them was chosen for this team for a reason. Some he’d watched grow up, in the secrecy of their homes, in small muggle villages, scared and haunted by the thought of the Regime. Some he’d met only recently, in his search for allies, refugees of the Regime. Some he chose for companionship—some he chose for intellect—some he chose for the balance he knew they’d bring to the rest of the group. All were chosen for what they were and what they would eventually become.

                A new era of wizards. A new generation of wizards trained to be powerful in the face of oppression, to adapt to each change, to confront the unbearable with a blood-thirsty smile and _bear it anyways._

A generation of wizards who would not bow to an overlord.

                _A legacy of resilience, of strength, of pain and sorrow and hope. And most of all, a legacy of magic._

_They will write our names in the history books._

                Severus had always known Hattie would be suited to leadership—it was in her very blood. James and Lily Potter were the sort to forge their own path and so too would their child. And, Severus thought wryly, he himself had taught her well. Thanks to him, she knew sometimes leadership was not brash and head-on, but calculated, patient, and well-planned. But to see leadership fall upon her shoulders with such ease was an entirely different thing. It was a heavy burden to bear at times and yet, she would not stumble.

                Hattie carried within her the strength of all of their hopes and dreams, whether she knew it or not.

                Even watching her now, the ease with which she controlled her movements somehow came as a shock to Severus. True, the others were holding their own, copying the wolf’s own movements with great aptitude. But Hattie moved as if she were born for it, fluidly ducking and rolling and coming back up to her feet like she’d been training for years.

                In this Severus had no idea where she gained her skill. It was not something he trained her in—in fact for many years it was what he feared most from her. He much preferred when she was huddled up in his study with a book and intense focus, or the knowledge that she was in a classroom or in Petunia’s garden. The more she learned about battle, the more likely it was to take her away from him. So in his fear, he’d glossed over those bits of her education. Hattie lacked not for training in magic, in potion-brewing, in history, in herbology or any of the muggle subjects she so loved. She was no stranger to dueling, but in the way of professional duelers who followed carefully-set guidelines.

                Not like a duel you’d find in a true battle.

                And still she was moving as if she were made for it, and perhaps she was, somersaulting and pushing back to her feet in one smooth motion.

                If possible, perhaps more fascinating than her own fluid movements were those of her troops surrounding her. They weren’t particularly as impressive as Hattie (for him, perhaps nobody could be), but their awareness of each other was astounding. Never did one cross paths with another. Never was there a moment they might have bumped into each other. It was as if, even without looking, the group knew exactly where each of them were at all times.

                And it was very possible that they did.

                Severus himself didn’t understand the concept of seeing ‘auras’ as Hattie sometimes called it. Though he was as adept at wandless magic as most wizards were—that is, he could perform most simple magic wandlessly, but powerful magic evaded him—the subject had been taught to him late. Most wizards were introduced to the concept of wordless magic in their last years of schooling, and wandless magic was often only introduced in masteries. He thought perhaps this was why the ‘aura’ phenomenon was almost unheard of; those experiencing it, Hattie and the other children of her generation, learned wandless magic from childhood.

                Maybe that’s the way nature intended it, or maybe this was an evolution of a sort of necessity—he wasn’t sure. He doubted there would be an answer to that for many more years. But Hattie and her generation had something that was enviable to all others. They shared wicked, awe-some magical prowess, the way they could ‘feel’ magic, the way they could understand it.

                He could already picture them in battle, imagine them instinctively closing ranks, filling in weak spots without having to glance around. He wondered if the Regime knew what was about to hit them, the sheer force of power that they’d inspired— _forced_ upon this new generation. He wondered if they would be fearful, or if they’d see Hattie’s troops and _know:_

                _They made these wizards._

                In their pursuit of power, of a better race of wizards, of endless, mighty magic… Directly because of their authority, their oppression, their force… They created their very own downfall.

                A smirk curled the corners of Severus’ lips at the thought. How ironic, that the goal the Regime had so ruthlessly pursued had come to fruition…and yet the Regime would be so utterly unequipped for its effects.

                Severus pushed away from the wall, his robes billowing out behind him as he approached the wolf—Merrick.

                “I think that shall be all for today,” he commanded, coming to a stop before the sweaty-looking teens. None had been quite prepared for a physical lesson; most wore transfigured athletic clothing.

                “Thank you for your help,” the Bellebloom girl—Elsie was her name—called cheerfully to the wolf.

                “Your demonstrations were top-notch,” added Longbottom kindly.

                The others were also showing their appreciation as Merrick departed, thanking him and shaking his hand. Noah Lee even bowed, nearly ninety degrees. After Merrick was gone, the teens turned almost as one to him, Hattie somehow in the front of the group.

                He tried not to look at her too deeply, even though his heart (which had long been called ‘cold’) ached for it. She was angry at him, angry in the way that she’d never been before. He could see it in her eyes, the calculated anger that came from neither James nor Lily. It was not hot, passionate fury, rather cold, hard anger: the anger _he_ had taught her.

                How terrible it was to be on the receiving end of your own traits.

                Even if the anger was justified—even if she may never look at him the same when all was said and done—he knew that everything they’d done was for her safety. He could live for the rest of his life content, if not happy, with the knowledge of her safety, even if she no longer considered him her family. Even if she spurned him or hated him, it was better than the alternative: Hattie, dead. It would be the only thing after all these long years that would be unbearable to him.

                He’d already lost Lily.

                Still, even with his bravado, Severus couldn’t look at Hattie as he spoke. “I thank you all for attending this…meeting today. I know that today was— _inconvenient_ for some of you, being a Monday. Shall we plan to reconvene on Sunday the twentieth instead?”

                “That is much more convenient than a Monday, personally,” Hattie spoke, her voice echoing slightly. The others were nodding along—he knew that, like Hattie, most of the younger ones were in muggle high school. Though it mattered not to him whether they had a muggle education, he knew it was important to some of them.

                “At the same time, then?” Lydia Farland asked, fixing her wild blond hair. It was coming out of its ponytail, scraggly strands flying about her head.

                “Come early in the morning,” Severus denied, shaking his head. “Shall we say eight? And plan to stay the majority of the day. Until then—take time to study Animagi, and any magic you can find resources on. Mind that you keep your wits about you, even now we must be careful.”

                This was a dismissal, and all of them took it as one; with barely another glance at him, they were huddled back up together, saying their goodbyes. It _almost_ made him glad to see them getting along, to know that he had chosen the correct members for his Hattie—those who would provide companionship and yet still be able to perform their duties.

                They were hugging and waving goodbye to each other, one by one leaving. The Silverlight girl and Wulfric Plaincross left together, headed back to New York; Noah Lee, his nose in a book, lingered slightly longer before he closed it with a snap and departed back to Los Angeles. Archer Whitborn, of course, was located only in the apartments upstairs.

                The rest were with him.

                It was strange how the effects of war could spread refugees far and wide. Like Hattie, those four had only recently found asylum in the States, and only left when it became too bleak to stay any longer in the United Kingdom. And these five were the lucky few who had escaped. Lydia Farland, and Elsie Bellebloom, and Hermione, Ron, and Neville, were among those who had been stuck through various circumstances. Family, or responsibility, or financial obligation, or fear kept them from finding refuge. Or perhaps like Severus they felt a call for greater purpose; they stuck through hoping one day to make a difference.

                The five who would go back to England with him gathered around as he set forward to speak once more with Hattie. But she still had a far-away, hurt look in her eyes, her lips set thinly.

                It took every ounce of humility within Severus to stand in front of her and whisper, “I am sorry.”

                “What, exactly, are you apologizing for?” Hattie’s voice lacked its usual warmth.

                And unfortunately there was no right answer to that question. He couldn’t tell her the truth— _I’m sorry for what we did to you—_ and he couldn’t lie to her— _I’m sorry you think we’ve done something we haven’t done._ That would only make things worse when the time came.

                And so he settled on a cold, unsatisfactory response. “I am sorry for whatever hurt you are currently feeling due to my own wrongdoings.”

                Hattie gave a single jerk of her head, not quite shaking it, almost as if she were cocking it curiously. She was annoyed, or frustrated—or, most probably, both. “Severus, I love you—but I will not pretend I am not angry as well.”

                “I understand,” he nodded.

                “And you still won’t give me an explanation,” his sweet Hattie said, some emotion he couldn’t explain filling her eyes. They wobbled slightly as they took him in, back and forth, like she was reading the book of his life.

                “It is less a matter of _will not_ and more a matter of _cannot,_ ” denied Severus. He hated to deny her, but in this he was sure it was better than to give in. “Until the time comes I can be sure it is safe to share—until I can gather the necessary information, the characters necessary to truth—I cannot tell you.”

                “You are bound by an oath?” Hattie asked, expectantly, almost hopeful. It pained him to dash her hopes, the ones he himself had just created; and still he did it anyways.

                “Only an oath of my own words.”

                “Then you _can_ tell me,” she asserted. “It is not a physical incapability.”

                “No, it is not,” he agreed. Even as he kept the faith of those who asked it of him, he was very aware of the faith that was breaking between them.

                “Then do not lie to me,” Hattie’s words were cold as ice. “If it is not incapability, it is disinclination.”

                And how she sounded so very much like _him_ when she said it. How was it he could see himself in a child whose blood he did not share—it was both entirely unfair and exactly what he deserved at the same time. He loved her more in that moment than in any other, for though she wanted so badly to know the truth, she never once used their relationship against him to get it. She never uttered an _If you truly loved me…_ or _If you trusted me as you say you do…_ No, instead she argued with integrity, a trait many teenagers no longer seemed to possess.

                He longed to give in to her. Even now his resolve wavered, but did not break. It’d be so much easier—her knowing, being able to corroborate, even having the time to make the choices she would one day have to make.

                 In fact, there were many times over the years he’d come close to telling her everything, spilling every secret he’d fought so hard to protect. You can train any child to keep a secret, and Hattie was an exceptionally trainable child. Of course, at first there was the matter of safety; having her know brought her risk for death up that much higher. But as the years passed that risk became lower and lower: she knew how to keep her magic secret, she knew how to stay unnoticed, even this secret would’ve been safe. But Lupin had made him promise—Lupin, in deference of his mate—and the Potters’ sacrifice.

                Even their willful secret-keeping was difficult at times: he could remember several times that the secret had almost come out. First at Hermione Granger’s house, Minerva and her bloody Heart of Hogwarts—flipping through the list of students, coming across Hattie’s name. And whispers of ‘the Boy-Who-Lived’ that he tried to squash in any of their allies.

                There were only five people alive now who knew the truth of the matter: Severus, Lupin, Minerva, Sirius Black, and Albus Dumbledore.

                Of the five, one was a prisoner and one was in hiding. Severus often thought that this particular secret was perhaps one of the reasons Dumbledore had hidden himself away—and one of the reasons the Regime had kept Black alive this long. There was always the hope of prying the information from his brain—after all, he was the Potter Child’s godfather.

                Severus, even after all these years, was reluctant to feel any positive emotions towards Black. Loath though he was to admit it, Black had done an excellent job of keeping things under wraps. He was half-terrified of what Hattie and her friends would find of him in Hogwarts, when the time came. They knew he was still alive due to his bond with Lupin, but they didn’t know his state of being. After years of presumed torture, it couldn’t be ideal: he was either completely mad or he was a much stronger man than Severus had ever believed. Yet Lupin was still a free man, and nobody knew of Severus’ part in the secret, so he was doing his job well.

                Sirius’ sacrifices had given Hattie nearly seventeen years of life free from the worry that the knowledge might have otherwise alit within her.

                Severus would be thankful for that for the rest of his days.

                The girl in question was still staring him down with those huge eyes of hers. Even now, they were softening from anger and ice to a reluctant, if hurt, acceptance.

                “You know I dislike arguing with you,” Severus said, flatly. His tone held no room for emotion. “You know I care about you and I want only the best for you.”

                “Perhaps ‘the best for me’ doesn’t include hiding pertinent information from me,” suggested Hattie, but there was no true heat behind it. She had come to begrudging acceptance that this was how things had to be for now.

                “Perhaps pertinent information is dangerous, and I want to keep you safe as long as possible,” Severus countered, and wrapped his hand around the back of her head to pull her into him. She didn’t move to hug him, even as her face was pressed into his chest, but her body relaxed in the way it did whenever he offered much-needed comfort. Soon her shoulders were shaking with the force of her tears. “You are a truly incredible young woman, Heather Henrietta. It has been the great pleasure of my life to have raised you.”

                “I’ll miss you,” his child cried, “Even though I’m so very angry with you, still I’ll miss you.”

                “It’s called ‘love’, I think,” he said dryly, pressing her face even deeper into his chest. His other hand, hanging by his side, itched to embrace her, but he didn’t, and her own arms were curled, hands fisted, into her chest. After a long beat, he released her, finding no use in the extended dramatics. “We must depart. You have a long drive ahead of you, and we have our own journey to make.”

                “But you’ll be here, on Sunday?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

                He inclined his head. “I will.”

                “Then I will see you on Sunday,” she said, with a rock-solid certainty. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her sleeve, hefted her backpack up from her feet, and made her way toward the reception area to disapparate. Almost as if an afterthought, she turned, hand on the doorknob, to call over her shoulder: “I love you, Professor!”

                “Idiotic girl,” he said, fondly, as she disappeared through the door. “I love you, too.” But she was already gone. He watched the closed door for a moment longer, wondering if she would reappear through it, but she didn’t. Finally, he turned to go collect his young charges, who at some point had wandered off.

—x—

                Hattie wasn’t sure how, but she somehow managed to get home before Charlie did. She was glad for it, too. It’d been a long enough day without having to explain where she’d been to Charlie on top of Beau.

                It was already dark out when she pulled into the driveway. As she turned the ignition off, the sudden silence within her car was a welcome shock. She just sat there for a moment, the blessed stillness seeming a bit unreal, fatigue falling over her. The whole day already seemed a distant memory.

                It was only when the side door opened and Beau peered out that she finally moved from her car, tugging her backpack on. He greeted her at the point between the house and the garage, looking at her wearily.

                “So…?” Beau asked, motioning with a hand that he expected some sort of excuse from her. It wasn’t something he’d asked her before—usually she didn’t keep secrets like this, or if she did, he didn’t pry. Beau and Bella were both very good about that sort of thing.

                But what exactly was she supposed to tell him? _I drove to Seattle to be given a troop of soldiers to fight in a war you know nothing about. I argued with my father-figure because I might have a brother who might be alive (or he could possibly be dead, I’m not really sure on that one). I met up with my best friends who I haven’t seen in like six years but that’s normal because of the war. I saw a winged skeleton horse you can only see if you’ve watched someone die. Also I went shopping for magic books and leaves. Oh, and a werewolf taught me self-defense._ No, she couldn’t say any of those things.

                “I went to Seattle because my godfather told me that Professor would be there,” Hattie lied. She was blessed with the ability to lie well—or perhaps she just had a lot of practice with it. “He was.”

                “You could’ve told me that!” Beau protested, shaking his head.

                She made herself smile bashfully, which wasn’t so hard, because she felt ashamed to be lying to her brother. At least it wasn’t Bella—who always seemed to be able to see right through her. “I didn’t want to say something and then have it turn out false. I would have felt silly.”

                Beau seemed to believe this and nodded, ushering her in out of the night. She didn’t realize how chilly she was until she stepped into the warm house, shivering.

                “Well, what did you do all day?” Beau asked, already settling back into the couch. Hattie joined him, dropping her bag on the floor.

                “Would you believe me if I said we were in meetings all day?” Hattie responded. “He brought some of my friends along, and a few people I had never met before. We had meetings about some education stuff—you know, the mastery I said I wanted to get. Then we went shopping and I got a couple of books. Oh, and I took a self-defense class.”

                “That sounds fun,” her brother commented. “Was it great seeing them all? I know you missed them.”

                Hattie shrugged truthfully. “Honestly it was kind of hard. You know—with Bella and everything, and then all the emotions of seeing my friends and Professor. It was a little overwhelming. But we had some really necessary conversations, and I think I might visit home soon.”

                Beau had been listening attentively, making all the appropriate expressions, but when she mentioned going back his face scrunched up. “Visit home?”

                “You know—England.” 

                “I know, but—why?” Beau sounded completely lost. “You were unhappy there.”

                Hattie was reminded of a similar conversation she’d had with Bella not that long ago, one Beau was never privy too. _“But how could you be homesick?” Bella had demanded. “Hattie, I’ve seen your scars.”_

                Perhaps it was everything that had happened that day, all the old hurts that had resurfaced. Perhaps it was that she was feeling sentimental. Or maybe it was because this was Beau, and after everything, she felt she owed him the truth.

                After all, he was hurting, too.

                So she pulled up her shirt as high as she could without exposing herself to him. Her stomach was toned, but softening, even after the workout she’d received today. And there were scars. She could feel him watching her, but she didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when she spoke.

                “I was unhappy,” Hattie said, slowly. “Well, perhaps at first I wasn’t. I didn’t know any different. This one came from a belt buckle. That one was a shard of glass from a broken plate. There are plenty more—on my thighs, my hips, places you can’t see when I wear clothes. I was unhappy.”

                Beau was silent for a long moment as she rolled her shirt back down. He was breathing in the precisely measured, shaky breaths of a man trying to control his temper. “So why do you want to go back, then?” he demanded. “Why do you love this professor of yours so much?”

                “You presume Severus did this to me,” Hattie gave a sharp, hollow laugh. He looked taken aback. “Because the alternative is too difficult for you to imagine. No, it was our aunt and uncle. Severus was my savior.”

                Hattie met her brother’s eyes with her own self-assured gaze. Even with all the uncertainty of the last months, the instability, in this she was absolutely certain. “Severus Snape is the greatest man I have ever known. He appeared on our doorstep when I was five, and told Petunia firmly that he would be teaching me from now on. He had gone to school with my mother, you see—they were best friends growing up. He felt it his duty. And Petunia protested, but he threatened her. Yet I was never fearful of him…there was something within me, even at that young age, that knew he would do anything to protect me.”

                Beau made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “And he never hurt you?”

                “You think him a pedophile,” Hattie said.

                “Of course I do. A strange man shows up on your doorstep, threatens your aunt, and takes you away to ‘teach’ you—what else am I supposed to think?”

                “Severus taught me many things. He taught me about astronomy, botany, history, cooking. Even in the subjects I was taught in school, he tutored me and helped me study—it is because of him that I am the person I am today. And he never hurt me. He hardly touched me. For years he showed me the barest amount of physical affection possible.”

                It was true. The years spent huddled in his study whilst they both worked on their own projects, read their own books, only the quiet sound of pages flipping and pens scratching breaking the silence. Sometimes one or the other would share something, and they would discuss it before going back to their work. Perhaps that sounded like a lonely, boring existence, but it wasn’t. There was a time for study and a time for play. After the books were put away they would practice magic in the confines of the basement, never _too much_ to be noticed but always enough to become skillful. He would take her to the park, or they would drive to London, or they would visit their allies. Sometimes they ventured into the woods to collect potions ingredients.

                She never wanted for adventure when she was with Severus, and over the years his home became more hers than Petunia’s was. He wore her out thoroughly each day until eventually, she learned to keep up with him. There were many nights she would fall asleep in the study, hunched over a novel, and wake up to find herself in her bed in his home. And never did Petunia question where she’d been, though the mornings she wandered in to the Dursleys’ home bleary-eyed in the same clothes as the night before, they always treated her worse than usual. Eventually she spent more nights in Severus’ home than the Dursleys’, and her room there became full of her own possessions.

                She still remembered those first few years—where the touch of his fingertips on her shoulders as he guided her felt like the world’s tightest hug. And the first time he’d hugged her close, after she’d fallen out of a tree in the Weasleys’ orchard when she was six and broke her arm. He was so scared, she could remember seeing him darting toward her through her tears—and he’d healed her so very quickly, and pulled her into him, calling her ‘idiotic child’. The term had never stung, had never held heat—indeed if one day he called her ‘sweetheart’ or ‘dear one’ she would know he was not himself.

                When the strangers on the street often mistook them for father and child, neither of them protested—she could recall that now. Maybe he held his tongue for the grief it would have caused them; “I’m not her dad” would’ve arisen much suspicion even in those days. Besides, they looked enough alike when she was a child to pretend. The only one he had ever protested the title to was Hattie herself, and now she knew he felt differently.

_“But you don’t want to be my father.”_

_“Hattie, that is the thing I want the most in the world.”_

                Beau’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. “You loved him and yet you left him.”

                “I did,” Hattie nodded.

                “Why?” Beau asked. He sounded like he was trying to put together a puzzle in his head but couldn’t find all of the pieces.

                “Why did you leave your mom?” Hattie countered.

                Her brother glanced up at her, the line between his eyebrows smoothing out. “I thought it would make her happy.”

                “Did it?” she asked calmly.

                “I think in some ways, it did,” Beau nodded. “But…”

                “But when you love someone and you can’t be with them, neither of you can ever be fully happy,” Hattie finished. “Sometimes having what you want can be bittersweet.”

                “It’s hard for you to be here, isn’t it?” Beau wondered, looking at her with new light. “Away from him.”

                “In some ways, it is,” Hattie echoed him with a smile. “He is the only father I’ve ever known. And the family we made there—all of our friends, young and old—I miss them, too. But in some ways I’m even happier here, because I have you and Charlie and Bella. And Jacob. But even though I made a new family here, I still miss the one I have there.”

                Beau nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes having what you want can be bittersweet,” he muttered, repeating her own words. And then, with clarity and acceptance in his voice, he asked: “When will you go home?”

                Hattie cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. She honestly didn’t know the answer. She didn’t know how long it would take before Severus believed they were ready to execute their mission. It could be three months—it could be a year. So she said, “I’m not sure, Beau.”

                “And how long will you stay when you get there?” Beau countered, staring hard at her.

                “I honestly don’t know,” Hattie said, her voice quiet. “I wish I did.”

_I wish I knew how long the mission would take. I wish I knew how long I would be away from you all. I wish I knew who would tell my family if I died._

                How long would it take someone to think of doing it? Would they know immediately, or would it take several months? Would they never know? Would they go on hoping for her to return for years, until eventually her presence became but a memory to them? Would they mourn her?

                These and more were the thoughts that plagued her. Worse than the thoughts of her death were the scenarios where they were successful.

_If we are successful, how long will it be before I can come home? Will we immediately take Hogwarts? If so, then too will we immediately move to crush the regime? How long will it take to rebuild our civilization? How long will I have to stay away from my new home?_

                And yet these were her burdens to bear. She could not share them, not with Beau. As they sat together in the silence that fell after her words, she regretted briefly coming to Forks. She regretted touching the lives of people so precious to her, perhaps only to bring them sorrow in the end.

                And then Charlie came through the door, less boisterous than usual, calling out, “Hattie? Beau?” and the emptiness that the lack of Bella’s name caused was stark. Still, they pulled themselves off the couch and went to greet him, to play at normal.

                That night, as she lurched tiredly up the stairs to the loft, she purposely did not look at Bella’s room. It was strange to know she was so alone, in a way she hadn’t been aware of in a long time. It was the first time she locked her door, holding the knob tightly and willing her magic to strengthen the lock. Then she made her way across the room and drew the curtains closed, covering completely the window that faced the forest.

                The empty loft felt a thousand times scarier with the knowledge that Bella was not there.

                Hattie lay down in her bed, her lamp still on, and kicked off her shoes. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the workout, though her elbow (still weak from disuse) was sore. As she kicked off her shoes, she suddenly remembered the letter Hermione had given her.

                She rolled off her bed and fished it out of her backpack. It was thick, weighty—as she opened it, a photograph fell out. She pulled the letter itself out of the envelope. It was short, written in Moony’s familiar hand:

_Hattie,_

_For each light rekindled within each soul tonight, I hope you receive twice as much._

_When we write of this day, when future generations of wizards learn our history, these are the images that will accompany it in the textbooks._

_This is because of you._

                  _Merry Part,_

_Moony_

                Hattie glanced down at the photograph that had fallen from the envelope, and the one still within it. Her heart caught in her throat.

                She couldn’t clearly see the subjects of the pictures—they were backlit by the bright blue light of patroni. But she could clearly see each patronus: doe and fox and otter and dog, birds, rabbits, bears, and Moony’s own wolfhound. There were incorporeal patroni mixed in, wisps of blue smoke and shields. It was ethereal, haunting—there was the glint of tears on the face of one of the subjects, the only clear thing about them. But the picture itself spoke of happiness.

                Only one of the pictures was magical. It captured the patroni swirling around the room as everybody began casting, each one joining the group. She could see the shadows of the people in the background turning to hug one another, and she felt proud and hopeful.

_Each light rekindled within each soul tonight…_

                Later, as she lay in bed, she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. Even when her phone buzzed, she was still thinking about the wizards hugging each other and casting the brightest patroni. She placed the pictures on her bedside table and drew out her phone, her heart light.

**HERMIONE GRANGER added you and 8 others to a group.**

                She unlocked her phone, still smiling, and opened up the group message. Multiple people were typing as Hermione set up the group.

**Elsie Bellebloom: it was so nice to meet you all today!**

**i had a lot of fun!**

**Archer Whitborn: hope evry1 got home safe**

**Hattie Swan: yes im very excited to come back on Sunday**

**you guys did great today**

**Ron Weasley: u were the best hattie!!!**

**u were always a grate student**

**Lee Noah: Wulfric also was very good**

**Lydia Farland: we’re going to be a great team**

**Neville Longbottom: I hope we can all be friends too**

**Wulfric Plaincross: It would not be remiss to have new friends these days**

**Yisri Silverlight: I feel we as a group are destined for great things.**

                Hattie waited for Hermione to send a message, watching her typing bubble pop up and disappear over and over again. One by one the green lights next to everyone’s names began disappearing as they all went to bed. Finally, there was a new message in the group:

_//Hermione Granger has changed the group name to THE BLESSED LEGACY//_

                _Legacy_. It was a fitting title for everything Hattie wanted for their group of would-be warriors. They themselves were legacies, and they would one day leave a legacy behind.

                With a smile, Hattie put her phone on to charge and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much has happened in my life these last two weeks that's it's wild, i can remember writing this and i was at such a different point in my life. also, i got a kind of snotty review about how this is just a self-insert fic and blah blah (which is funny because hattie and i share literally 0 traits...well, i guess we both like to read), but whatever-- i have lots of warnings on this fic about rule breaking and aus and how this fic is self indulgent. *shrug* 
> 
> so yeah hope you liked it! follow me on twitter **@QueenBuzzle**


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows along through bits of Twilight: 21, 22, 23. VERY by the book. Since it's pretty much just these Twilight chapters chopped up with a few ASTWB bits added in, you can look forward to chapter 32 as soon as I'm done with the read through tonight! :)

_“Brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you go on even though you're scared.” ―Angie Thomas_

══════

                _I want you to go to your mother’s house._

                Bella worked hard to control her pulse as she hung up the phone. Even as she brought it away from her ear, the joints of her fingers frozen in fear, her brain was already buzzing. She had to think. She had to make a plan. But her head was filled with the sound of her mother’s panic.

                _“Bella? Bella?”_

                Seconds ticked by while she fought for control. She couldn’t alert Jasper or Alice to her panic.

                Slowly, slowly her thoughts started to break through the brick wall of pain to plan. For she had no choice now but one: to go to the mirrored room and die. She had no guarantees, nothing to give to keep her mother alive. She could only hope James would be satisfied with winning the game, that beating Edward would be enough.

                Despair gripped her; there was no way to bargain, nothing she could offer or withhold that could influence him. But she had no choice. She had to try.

                For Edward—for the Cullens—for Renee—for Charlie—for Beau and Hattie.

                Bella pushed back the terror as well as she could. Her decision was made. It did no good to waste time agonizing over the outcome. She had to think clearly, because Alice and Jasper were waiting for her, and evading them was absolutely necessary.

                And absolutely impossible.

                She concentrated on her escape. Bella had to hope that her familiarity with the airport would turn the odds in her favor. And, somehow, she had to keep Alice away…

                Though she knew Alice was in the other room waiting for her, curious, there was one more thing she had to deal with in private.

                Bella had to accept the fact that she wouldn’t see Edward again, not even one last glimpse of his face to carry with her to the mirror room. She was going to hurt him, and she couldn’t say goodbye. _Couldn’t_ , for he would know something was wrong.

                But there was someone she could say goodbye to, and she needed to do it. Though she hadn’t been able to communicate with them these last days—Alice and Jasper had insisted upon the silence—she’d been watching their messages.

                Her siblings.

                If accepting her loss of Edward was difficult, accepting her loss of them was impossible: there was nobody she loved more in this world than Beau and Hattie. Not even herself. For them, she would die ten times over. They had to know she loved them. Poor Beau, who had never lived in this world without her—and Hattie, who had already lost so much. But they had each other, and eventually they would be okay.

**Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**Bell: I love you both very much**

**Bow: BELLA**

**Bird: Are you okay?**

**Bow: we love you too**

**we miss you**

**Bird: are you happy?**

**that’s all that matters**

**we forgive you**

**Bow: of course we forgive you**

**Bell: I’m happy now**

**Thank you**

**I have to go, but I love you**

                She held the power button of her phone until it shut off, staring at her background until it went black. It was the picture of the three of them at the beach, Hattie’s arm still encapsulated by the cast, Beau leaning between them from behind. Somehow, the picture gave her the strength to push back the waves of torture and go face Alice.

                The only expression she could manage was a dull, dead look. She saw Alice’s alarm and didn’t wait for her to ask. Bella had only one script, given to her by James, and she’d never been good at improvisation.

                “My mom was worried, she wanted to come home. But it’s okay, I convinced her to stay away.” Her voice was lifeless as she spoke.

                Bella turned away; she couldn’t let Alice see her face. Her eyes fell on a blank page of hotel stationery on the desk. She went to it slowly, a plan forming. There was an envelope there, too—good.

                “Alice,” she said, slowly. She was careful to keep her voice level. “If I write a letter to my mother, would you give it to her? Leave it at the house, I mean.”

                “Sure, Bella.” Alice’s voice was as careful as Bella’s own. She could clearly see Bella coming apart at the seams—Bella needed to keep her emotions under better control.

                Still, she took the paper back to the bedroom and knelt by the bedside table to write. She’d said her goodbyes to Beau and Hattie. Now she had the daunting task of saying goodbye to Edward.

—x—

                All too soon, Bella found herself in front of the ballet studio.

                It hadn’t even been difficult.

                Escaping Alice and Jasper had been ridiculously easy—tricking them made her feel like the worst sort of person, especially given how trusting they’d been. She tried not to think of what they were doing right now, how they were explaining to Edward that she was gone. His plane surely would have long been landed by now. Perhaps they were trying to find her. Perhaps they tried to call her phone, only to be sent to voicemail…it was still in her pocket, turned off.

                She meant to leave it at her mother’s house. There were things within it she wanted them to have. Pictures—pictures of Hattie and Beau and Charlie, and even one of Edward. A video of Beau dancing in the rare Phoenix rain. One of Hattie in La Push, in her beautiful skirt, chasing the tide. A picture of Hattie tucked up like a baby bird under Jacob’s arm in the firelight.

                But then these were the very things keeping her from leaving her phone behind, too. She kept seeing the picture of the three of them in La Push: Beau with his brightest grin, Hattie looking faintly surprised, and Bella squinting against the sun. They all were happy that day, and that was why she couldn’t leave her useless device behind.

                She wanted to take the memory of happiness with her when she died. Maybe it was a form of cowardice, or of bravery. But that was the truth.

                Bella stood on the sidewalk outside the ballet studio just long enough to catch her breath, and then headed for the entrance. The parking lot was empty, and a pink sign on the doors informed her that the studio was closed for spring break. When she reached for the door, it was unlocked—a rush of butterflies floated around in her stomach, anxiety and anticipation mixed with fear.

                The lobby was dark and empty, cool. Between one blink and the next she could see young Beau and Bella sitting in the chairs here, neither happy to be there. For Beau, it was because “boys don’t do ballet.” For Bella, it was because she was uncoordinated. Neither had lasted here long—and even this ghost of memory didn’t, because when she blinked her eyes again it was gone.

                The west dance floor was dark, she could see through the open viewing window. The east dance floor, the bigger room, was lit. But the blinds were pulled closed over the window.

                Terror seized her so strongly that she was literally trapped by it. Here she was now, facing her impending death…so close to the end. And only now did she stop to realize what that meant.

                The end.

                She’d never given much thought to how she’d die, though she had plenty reason to these last few months. Even, once, she’d thought that she’d come to the end herself…that day with the van, when she narrowly escaped injury. But surely this was a good way to die, in the place of someone else—someone she _loved_. Noble, even.

                Still she was frozen with terror trying to come to grips with it. She couldn’t force her feet to move.

                And then she heard her mother’s voice.

                “Bella? Bella?” It was that same tone of hysterical panic that Renee had used on the phone. Bella sprinted to the door, to the sound of her voice.

                “Bella, you scared me! Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Renee’s voice continued as Bella ran into the long, high-ceilinged room.

                She stared around herself, trying to find out where her voice was coming from. Bella heard Renee laugh, and whirled to the sound.

                There she was—on the TV screen, tousling Bella’s hair in relief. It was Thanksgiving, and Bella and Beau were twelve. They’d gone to see their grandmother in California, the last year before she died. They went to the beach one day, and Bella had leaned too far over the edge of the pier. Renee had seen Bella’s feet flailing, trying to reclaim balance. “Bella? Bella?” She’d called out in fear.

                And then the TV screen was blue.

                Bella turned slowly. He was standing very still by the back exit, so still she hadn’t noticed him at first. In his hand was a remote control. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then James smiled.

                He walked toward her, quite close, and then passed her to put the remote down next to the VCR. Bella turned carefully to keep him in her sights, watchful.

                “Sorry about that, Bella, but isn’t it much better that your mother didn’t really have to be involved in all this?” His voice was courteous, kind.

                And suddenly it hit her.

                Her mother was safe. She was still in Florida. She’d never gotten Bella’s message. She’d never been terrified by the dark red eyes in the abnormally pale face before Bella. She was _safe._

                “Yes,” Bella finally answer, her voice saturated with relief.

                “You don’t sound angry that I tricked you.”

                “I’m not,” Bella said truthfully. Her sudden high made her brave. What did it matter now? It would soon be over. Charlie and Renee and Beau and Hattie would never be harmed, would never have to fear. She felt almost giddy. Some analytical part of her mind warned her that she was dangerously close to snapping from the stress.

                “How odd. You really mean it.” His dark eyes assessed her with interest. The irises were nearly black, just a hint of ruby around the edges. Thirsty. “I will give your strange coven this much, you humans can be quite interesting. I guess I can see the draw of observing you. It’s amazing—some of you seem to have no sense of your own self-interest at all.”

                He was standing a few feet away, arms folded, looking at her curiously. There was no menace in his face or stance. He was so very average-looking, nothing remarkable about his face or body at all. Just the white skin, the circled eyes she’d grown so used to. He wore a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans.

                “I suppose you’re going to tell me that your boyfriend will avenge you?” he asked—hopefully, it seemed.

                “No, I don’t think so. At least, I asked him not to.”

                “And what was his reply to that?”

                “I don’t know.” It was strangely easy to converse with this genteel hunter. “I left him a letter.”

                “How romantic, a last letter. And do you think he will honor it?” His voice was just a little harder now, a hint of sarcasm marring his polite tone.

                “I hope so.”

                “Hmmm. Well, our hopes differ then. You see, this was all just a little too easy, too quick. To be quite honest, I'm disappointed. I expected a much greater challenge. And, after all, I only needed a little luck.”

                Bella waited in silence.

                “When Victoria couldn't get to your family, I had her find out more about you. There was no sense in running all over the planet chasing you down when I could comfortably wait for you in a place of my choosing. So, after I talked to Victoria, I decided to come to Phoenix to pay your mother a visit. I'd heard you say you were going home. At first, I never dreamed you meant it. But then I wondered. Humans can be very predictable; they like to be somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. And wouldn't it be the perfect ploy, to go to the last place you should be when you're hiding—the place that you said you'd be.

                “But of course I wasn't sure, it was just a hunch. I usually get a feeling about the prey that I'm hunting, a sixth sense, if you will. I listened to your message when I got to your mother's house, but of course I couldn't be sure where you'd called from. It was very useful to have your number, but you could have been in Antarctica for all I knew, and the game wouldn't work unless you were close by.

                “Then your boyfriend got on a plane to Phoenix. Victoria was monitoring them for me, naturally; in a game with this many players, I couldn't be working alone. And so they told me what I'd hoped, that you were here after all. I was prepared; I'd already been through your charming home movies. And then it was simply a matter of the bluff.

                “Very easy, you know, not really up to my standards. So, you see, I'm hoping you're wrong about your boyfriend. Edward, isn't it?”

                Bella didn't answer. The bravado was wearing off. She sensed that he was coming to the end of his gloat—it wasn't meant for her, anyway. There was no glory in beating her, a weak human.

                “Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for your Edward?”

                He took a step back and touched a palm-sized digital video camera balanced carefully on top of the stereo. A small red light indicated that it was already running. He adjusted it a few times, widened the frame. Bella stared at him in horror.

                “I'm sorry, but I just don't think he'll be able to resist hunting me after he watches this. And I wouldn't want him to miss anything. It was all for him, of course. You're simply a human, who unfortunately was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and indisputably running with the wrong crowd, I might add.”

                He stepped toward her, smiling. “Before we begin...”

                Bella felt a curl of nausea in the pit of her stomach as he spoke. This was something she had not anticipated. The idea of a tape of her death—a montage of her last moments—was almost too much to bear. She prayed to whatever deity was listening that it never see the light of day.

                 “I would just like to rub it in, just a little bit. The answer was there all along, and I was so afraid Edward would see that and ruin my fun. It happened once, oh, ages ago. The one and only time my prey escaped me.

                “You see, the vampire who was so stupidly fond of this little victim made the choice that your Edward was too weak to make. When the old one knew I was after his little friend, he stole her from the asylum where he worked—I never will understand the obsession some vampires seem to form with you humans—and as soon as he freed her he made her safe. She didn't even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She'd been stuck in that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she would have been burned at the stake for her visions. In the 1920s, it was the asylum and the shock treatments. When she opened her eyes, strong with her fresh youth, it was like she'd never seen the sun before. The old vampire made her a strong new vampire, and there was no reason for me to touch her then.” He sighed. “I destroyed the old one in vengeance.”

                “Alice,” Bella breathed, astonished. She thought of the tiny vampire who was probably frantic with her perceived failure, and felt ashamed of herself.

                “Yes, your little friend. I was surprised to see her in the clearing. So I guess her coven ought to be able to derive some comfort from this experience. I get you, but they get her. The one victim who escaped me—quite an honor, actually.

                “And she did smell so delicious. I still regret that I never got to taste... She smelled even better than you do. Sorry—I don't mean to be offensive. You have a very nice smell. Floral, or fruits, somehow...”

                He took another step toward her, until he was just inches away. He lifted a lock of her hair and sniffed at it delicately. Bella could still remember asking Edward about her scent—like fresh fruit. Berries and citrus fruits, coconuts, melons. He called it ‘crisp’.

The hunter gently patted the strand of hair back into place, and Bella felt his cool fingertips against her throat. He reached up to stroke her cheek once quickly with his thumb, his face curious. It didn’t incite any of the feelings of Edward’s hands. She wanted so badly to run, but she was frozen—she couldn't even flinch away.

                “No,” he murmured to himself as he dropped his hand, “I don't understand.” He sighed. “Well, I suppose we should get on with it. And then I can call your friends and tell them where to find you, and my little message.”

                Bella was definitely feeling sick now. There was pain coming, she could see it in his eyes. It wouldn't be enough for him to win, to feed and go. There would be no quick end like she'd been counting on. Her knees began to shake, and she was afraid she was going to fall. She held the picture of Beau and Hattie at the beach in her mind and tried to use their sunny happiness to keep her strength.

                He stepped back, and began to circle, casually, as if he were trying to get a better view of a statue in a museum. His face was still open and friendly as he decided where to start.

                Then he slumped forward, into a crouch she recognized, and his pleasant smile slowly widened, grew, until it wasn't a smile at all but a contortion of teeth, exposed and glistening.

                Bella couldn't help herself—she tried to run. As useless as she knew it would be, as weak as her knees already were, panic took over and she bolted for the emergency door.

                He was in front of her in a flash. She didn't see if he used his hand or his foot, it was too fast. A crushing blow struck her chest—she felt herself flying backward, and then heard the crunch as her head bashed into the mirrors. The glass buckled, some of the pieces shattering and splintering on the floor around her.

                Bella was too stunned to feel the pain. She couldn't even breathe yet. She wondered if this was how Hattie felt that day with the van.

                He walked toward her slowly.

                “That's a very nice effect,” he said, examining the mess of glass, his voice friendly again. “I thought this room would be visually dramatic for my little film. That's why I picked this place to meet you. It's perfect, isn't it?”

                She ignored him, scrambling onto her hands and knees, crawling toward the other door. Suddenly she felt a desperate need to live.

                He was over her at once, his foot stepping down hard on her leg. She heard the sickening snap before she felt it. But then she did feel it, and she couldn't hold back a scream of agony. She twisted up to reach for her leg, and he was standing over her again, smiling.

                “Would you like to rethink your last request?” he asked pleasantly. His toe nudged her broken leg and she heard a piercing scream. With a shock, she realized it was her own.

                “Wouldn't you rather have Edward try to find me?” he prompted.

                “No!” Bella croaked. “No, Edward, don't—” And then something smashed into her face, throwing her back into the broken mirrors.

                Over the pain of her leg, she felt the sharp rip across her scalp where the glass cut into it. And then the warm wetness began to spread through her hair with alarming speed. She could feel it soaking the shoulder of her shirt, hear it dripping on the wood below. The smell of it twisted her stomach.

                Through the nausea and dizziness she saw something that gave her a sudden, final shred of hope. His eyes, merely intent before, now burned with an uncontrollable need. The blood—spreading crimson across her white shirt, pooling rapidly on the floor—was driving him mad with thirst. No matter his original intentions, he couldn't draw this out much longer.

                _Let it be quick now_ , was all she could hope as the flow of blood from her head sucked her consciousness away with it. Her eyes were closing. She could see her loved ones like mirages in her mind—Hattie squealing as she twirled in Bella’s doorway, “I feel like a princess!” And Beau tearing off down the beach, shirtless, laughing wildly as he entered the water. And Edward, his voice quiet as he whispered, “And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…”

                She heard, as if from underwater, the final growl of the hunter. She could see, through the long tunnels her eyes had become, his dark shape coming toward her. With her last effort, her hand instinctively raised to protect her face. Bella’s eyes closed, and she drifted.

—x—

                As she drifted, she dreamed.

                Where she floated, under the dark water, she heard the happiest sound her mind could conjure up—as beautiful, as uplifting, as it was ghastly. It was another snarl; a deeper, wilder roar that rang with fury.

                She was brought back, almost to the surface, by a sharp pain slashing her upraised hand, but she couldn't find her way back far enough to open her eyes. She felt much too much like she was floating, adrift at sea…

                And then she knew she was dead.

                Because, through the heavy water, she heard the sound of an angel calling her name—calling her to the only heaven she wanted.

                “Oh no, Bella, no!” the angel's voice cried in horror.

                Behind that longed-for sound was another noise—an awful tumult that her mind shied away from. A vicious bass growling, a shocking snapping sound, and a high keening, suddenly breaking off...

                She tried to concentrate on the angel's voice instead.

                “Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please, please, Bella, please!” he begged.

                Yes, she wanted to say. Anything. But she couldn't find her lips.

                “Carlisle!” the angel called, agony in his perfect voice. “Bella, Bella, no, oh please, no, no!” And the angel was sobbing tearless, broken sobs.

                The angel shouldn't weep, it was wrong. She tried to find him, to tell him everything was fine, but the water was so deep, it was pressing on her, and she couldn't breathe.

                There was a point of pressure against her head. It hurt. Then, as that pain broke through the darkness to her, other pains came, stronger pains. She cried out, gasping, breaking through the dark pool.

                “Bella!” the angel cried.

                “She's lost some blood, but the head wound isn't deep,” a calm voice informed her. “Watch out for her leg, it's broken.”

                A howl of rage strangled on the angel's lips.

                She felt a sharp stab in her side. This couldn't be heaven, could it? There was too much pain for that.

                “Some ribs, too, I think,” the methodical voice continued.

                But the sharp pains were fading. There was a new pain, a scalding pain in her hand that was overshadowing everything else.

                Someone was burning her.

                “Edward.” She tried to tell him, but her voice was so heavy and slow. She couldn't understand herself.

                “Bella, you're going to be fine. Can you hear me, Bella? I love you.”

                “Edward,” she tried again. Her voice was a little clearer.

                “Yes, I'm here.”

                “It hurts,” she whimpered.

                “I know, Bella, I know” —and then, away from her, anguished— “can’t you do anything?”

                “My bag, please... Hold your breath, Alice, it will help,” Carlisle promised.

                “Alice?” Bella groaned.

                “She's here, she knew where to find you.”

                “My hand hurts,” she tried to tell him.

                “I know, Bella. Carlisle will give you something, it will stop.”

                “My hand is burning!” Bella screamed, finally breaking through the last of the darkness, her eyes fluttering open. She couldn't see his face, something dark and warm was clouding her eyes. Why couldn't they see the fire and put it out?

                His voice was frightened. “Bella?”

                “The fire! Someone stop the fire!” She screamed as it burned her.

                “Carlisle! Her hand!”

                “He bit her.” Carlisle's voice was no longer calm, it was appalled.

                Bella heard Edward catch his breath in horror.

                “Edward, you have to do it.” It was Alice's voice, close by her head. Cool fingers brushed at the wetness in her eyes.

                “No!” he bellowed.

                “Alice,” Bella moaned.

                “There may be a chance,” Carlisle said.

                “What?” Edward begged.

                “See if you can suck the venom back out. The wound is fairly clean.” As Carlisle spoke, Bella could feel more pressure on her head, something poking and pulling at her scalp. The pain of it was lost in the pain of the fire.

                “Will that work?” Alice's voice was strained.

                “I don't know,” Carlisle said. “But we have to hurry.”

                “Carlisle, I...” Edward hesitated. “I don't know if I can do that.” There was agony in his beautiful voice again.

                “It's your decision, Edward, either way. I can't help you. I have to get this bleeding stopped here if you're going to be taking blood from her hand.”

                Bella writhed in the grip of the fiery torture, the movement making the pain in her leg flare sickeningly.

                “Edward!” She screamed. She realized her eyes were closed again. She opened them, desperate to find his face. And she found him. Finally, she could see his perfect face, staring at her, twisted into a mask of indecision and pain.

                “Alice, get me something to brace her leg!” Carlisle was bent over her, working on her head. “Edward, you must do it now, or it will be too late.”

                Edward's face was drawn. Bella watched his eyes as the doubt was suddenly replaced with a blazing determination. His jaw tightened. She felt his cool, strong fingers on her burning hand, locking it in place. Then his head bent over it, and his cold lips pressed against her skin.

                At first the pain was worse. She screamed and thrashed against the cool hands that held her back. She heard Alice's voice, trying to calm her. Something heavy held her leg to the floor, and Carlisle had her head locked in the vise of his stone arms.

                Then, slowly, Bella’s writhing calmed as her hand grew more and more numb. The fire was dulling, focusing into an ever-smaller point.

                She felt her consciousness slipping as the pain subsided. She was afraid to fall into the black waters again, afraid she would lose him in the darkness.

                “Edward,” Bella tried to say, but she couldn't hear her voice.

They could hear her. “He’s right here, Bella.”

                “Stay, Edward, stay with me...”

                “I will.” His voice was strained, but somehow triumphant.

                She sighed contentedly. The fire was gone, the other pains dulled by a sleepiness seeping through her body.

                “Is it all out?” Carlisle asked from somewhere far away.

                “Her blood tastes clean,” Edward said quietly. “I can taste the morphine.”

                “Bella?” Carlisle called to her.

                She tried to answer. “Mmmmm?”

                “Is the fire gone?”

                “Yes,” Bella sighed. “Thank you, Edward.”

                “I love you,” he answered.

                “I know,” she breathed, so tired.

                She heard her favorite sound in the world: Edward's quiet laugh, weak with relief.

                “Bella?” Carlisle asked again.

                She frowned; she wanted to sleep. “What?”

                “Where is your mother?”

                “In Florida,” she sighed again. “He tricked me, Edward. He watched our videos.” The outrage in her voice was pitifully frail.

                But that reminded her.

                “Alice.” She tried to open her eyes. “Alice, the video—he knew you, Alice, he knew where you came from.” She meant to speak urgently, but her voice was feeble. “I smell gasoline,” she added, surprised through the haze in her brain.

                “It's time to move her,” Carlisle said.

                “No, I want to sleep,” Bella complained.

                “You can sleep, sweetheart, I’ll carry you,” Edward soothed her.

                And she was in his arms, cradled against his chest—floating, all the pain gone.

                “Sleep now, Bella,” were the last words she heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter **@QueenBuzzle**!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the beginning of Twilight: 24  
> ft. me BS-ing the rules of werewolves + animagi  
> Bella can't remember driving her truck to Arizona because she didn't (how the Cullens got it there is beyond me)

_“You don’t remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened.” ―John Green_

══════

                Even before she opened her eyes, the first thing she was aware of was the beeping. It was steady, incessant— _annoying._ Then there was the smell—of antiseptic, antibacterial, clean and bitter. It was a little too cold to be completely comfortable, but there was a heavy, warm spot almost tucked under her arm. She hoped this meant she was alive.

                When she finally did open her eyes, it was to a bright white light. In fact, as her eyes sluggishly tracked the room, she realized just about everything in it was white: the walls, the blinds, the floor, the bedding. Her hand drifted to the warmth and landed in a nest of thick, soft hair. It was a head, rested on her shoulder. She toyed idly with the soft hair as her gaze drifted down to her hands, which were twisted up with clear tubes.

                There was also something taped across her face,  under her nose. She lifted the hand not currently occupied to rip it off.

                “No, you don’t.” Cool fingers caught her hand.

                “Edward?” she asked, turning her head slightly. His exquisite face was just inches from hers, his chin resting on the edge of her pillow. She realized again that she was alive, this time with gratitude and elation. “Oh, Edward, I’m so sorry!”

                “Shhh,” he shushed softly, nodding across the bed to where she was still cradling the head. Now she followed his gaze, tracing the slumped form that was resting against her. Of course it was Hattie—tiny, lovely Hattie, arched over the side of the bed to lay on the one part of Bella that was not bandaged. It brought a painful smile to Bella’s lips as she rubbed her sister’s hair fondly. “Everything’s okay now.”

                “What happened?” Bella asked. She couldn’t remember clearly. She still felt sluggish and sort of out of her mind.

                “It was almost too late.” Edward’s voice was the quietest whisper. They were both gazing down at Hattie’s sleeping form—Bella remembered thinking Hattie never looked nice while she was asleep, but right now she looked positively cherubic. “I could have been too late.”

                “I was so stupid, Edward. I thought he had my mom.”

                “He tricked us all.”

                “I need to call her,” Bella realized through the haze.

                “Alice called her. And Charlie—but that’s obvious,” Edward said, nodding down at Hattie. “Renee’s here—well, here in the hospital. She’s getting something to eat right now, with Beau and your dad.”

                “She’s here?” she tried to adjust herself without shifting Hattie, but the spinning in her head accelerated. His hand gently pushed her back down into the pillows.

                “She’ll be back soon,” he promised. “And you need to stay still. Hattie’s been doing a good job of being a paperweight.”

                “But what did you tell her?” she panicked. She had no interest in being soothed—her entire family was here, and she was recovering from a _vampire_ attack. “Why did you tell her I’m here?”

                “You fell down two flights of stairs and through a window,” Edward said carefully. A smile quirked on his lips at the story. “You have to admit—it could happen.”

                Bella sighed, and it hurt. She glanced down at her body under the sheet, at the huge lump that was her leg.

                “How bad am I?” she asked finally.

                “You have a broken leg, four broken ribs, some cracks in your skull, bruises covering the majority your skin, and you’ve lost a lot of blood. They gave you a few transfusions. I didn’t like it—it made you smell all wrong for a while.”

                “That must have been a nice change for you,” Bella joked.

                “No, I like how you smell.”

                Bella looked down at Hattie concernedly. She wasn’t sure how freely they should talk. “She’s asleep?”

                “Very asleep,” Edward confirmed. “Her heart rate and breathing are consistent with REM sleep.”

                Indeed, Hattie’s gentle breaths were long and even against Bella’s skin. She watched her sister for a beat longer before asking Edward, “How did you do it?”

                He knew what she meant at once. “I’m not sure.” He looked away from her wondering eyes, lifting her gauze-wrapped hand from the bed and gently holding it in his. He was careful not to disrupt the wire connecting it to the monitors.

                She waited, patiently, for him to continue.

                He sighed, still without returning her gaze. “It was impossible…to stop,” he whispered. “Impossible. But I did.” He looked up finally, with a half-smile. “I must love you.”

                “Don’t I taste as good as I smell?” she responded, with another smile that hurt her face.

                “Even better—better than I’d imagined.”

                “I’m sorry,” she apologized.

                He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Of all the things to apologize for.”

                “What should I apologize for?”

                “For very nearly taking yourself away from me forever.”

                “I’m sorry,” she apologized again.

                “I know why you did it.” His voice was comforting. “It was still irrational, of course. You should have waited for me, you should have told me.”

                “You wouldn’t have let me go.”

                “No,” he agreed in a grim tone, “I wouldn’t.”

                Some very unpleasant memories were beginning to come back to her. She shuddered, displacing Hattie slightly, and then winced.

                He was instantly anxious. “Bella, what’s wrong?”

                “What happened to James?”

                “After I pulled him off you, Emmett and Jasper took care of him.” There was a fierce note of regret in his voice.

                This confused her. “I didn’t see Emmett and Jasper there.”

                “They had to leave the room... there was a lot of blood.”

                “But you stayed.”

                “Yes, I stayed.”

                “And Alice, and Carlisle...” Bella said in wonder.

                “They love you, too, you know.”

                A flash of painful images from the last time she’d seen Alice reminded her of something. “Did Alice see the tape?” she asked anxiously.

                “Yes.” A new sound darkened his voice, a tone of sheer hatred.

                “She was always in the dark, that’s why she didn’t remember.”

                “I know. She understands now.” His voice was even, but his face was black with fury.

                She tried to reach his face with the hand cradling Hattie, but the weight of her sister and the IV stopped her.

                “Ugh.” she winced.

                “What is it?” he asked anxiously—distracted, but not enough. The bleakness did not entirely leave his eyes.

                “Needles,” she explained, looking away from the one in her hand. Even as it looked so lovely cradling her sister’s head, the needle was freaking her out. She concentrated on a warped ceiling tile and tried to breathe deeply despite the ache in her ribs.

                “Afraid of a needle,” he muttered to himself under his breath, shaking his head. “Oh, a sadistic vampire, intent on torturing her to death, sure, no problem, she runs off to meet him. An IV, on the other hand...”

                She rolled her eyes—pleased to discover that this reaction, at least, was pain-free. She decided to change the subject.

                “Why are you here?” Bella asked.

                He stared at her, first confusion and then hurt touching his eyes. His brows pulled together as he frowned. “Do you want me to leave?”

                “No!” She protested, horrified by the thought. “No, I meant, why does my family think you’re here? I need to have my story straight before they get back.”

                “Oh,” he said, and his forehead smoothed back into marble. “I came to Phoenix to talk some sense into you, to convince you to come back to Forks.” His wide eyes were so earnest and sincere, she almost believed him herself. “You agreed to see me, and you drove out to the hotel where I was staying with Carlisle and Alice—of course I was here with parental supervision,” he inserted virtuously, “but you tripped on the stairs on the way to my room and... well, you know the rest. You don’t need to remember any details, though; you have a good excuse to be a little muddled about the finer points.”

                She thought about it for a moment. “There are a few flaws with that story. Like no broken windows.”

                “Not really,” he said. “Alice had a little bit too much fun fabricating evidence. It’s all been taken care of very convincingly—you could probably sue the hotel if you wanted to. You have nothing to worry about,” he promised, stroking her cheek with the lightest of touches. “Your only job now is to heal.”

                She wasn’t so lost to the soreness or the fog of medication that she didn’t respond to his touch. The beeping of the monitor jumped around erratically—now he wasn’t the only one who could hear her heart misbehave.

                “That’s going to be embarrassing,” she muttered to myself.

                He chuckled, and a speculative look came into his eye. “Hmm, I wonder...”

                He leaned in slowly; the beeping noise accelerated wildly before his lips even touched her. But when they did, though with the most gentle of pressure, the beeping stopped altogether.

                He pulled back abruptly, his anxious expression turning to relief as the monitor reported the restarting of her heart.

                “It seems that I’m going to have to be even more careful with you than usual.” He frowned.

                “I was not finished kissing you,” she complained. “Don’t make me come over there.”

                He grinned. “Even with Hattie laying right there?” But bent to press his lips lightly to hers anyways. The monitor went wild.

                But then his lips were taut. He pulled away.

                “I think I hear your mother and Beau,” he said, grinning again.

                “Don’t leave me,” she cried, an irrational surge of panic flooding through her. Though a part of her ached for her brother, she couldn’t let Edward go—he might disappear from her again.

                He read the terror in her eyes for a short second. “I won’t,” he promised solemnly, and then he smiled. “I’ll take a note from Hattie’s book, and nap.”

                He moved from the hard plastic chair by her side to the turquoise faux-leather recliner at the foot of her bed, leaning it all the way back and closing his eyes. He was perfectly still.

                “Don’t forget to breathe,” she whispered sarcastically. He took a deep breath, his eyes still closed.

                She could hear her mother now, and if she listened closer, Beau’s tell-tale footsteps. Renee was talking to someone, maybe a nurse, and she sounded tired and upset. Bella wanted to jump out of bed and run to her, to calm her, promise her that everything was fine. But she wasn’t in any sort of shape for jumping, so she waited patiently.

                The door opened a crack and Renee peeked in first.

                “Mom!” Bella whispered, her voice full of love and relief.

                Renee entered the room, taking in the forms of Bella’s two guardians: first Edward’s still form on the recliner, and then, almost fondly, Hattie, curled gently into Bella’s shoulder.

                “He never leaves you, does he?” she mumbled to herself as Beau came in.

                If Bella had been happy to see her mother, she could have jumped for joy seeing her bedraggled twin. He looked much more stressed and upset than Renee did, his skin paler than usual. Beau moved to sit in the recliner with Hattie, skootching their sister over to make a little room. Hattie stirred against Bella’s shoulder and sat up slowly with a confused noise.

                Bella’s heart could have burst with the love she felt then. She willed herself not to cry as she turned her head from her mother to take in her siblings, the people she loved the most in the world.

_You’re my favorite people,_ she wanted to tell them. _I love you and I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for staying by my side and worrying over me. You are the greatest siblings anyone could ever ask for._

                But how could she say that to them, with Renee standing by—Renee who would make it into an overdramatic scene, or who wouldn’t understand the extent of Bella’s love for these people? Luckily, Beau and Hattie understood without words what her eyes were screaming at them. Her brother nodded once, hard, clenching his teeth as if trying not to cry. Hattie smoothed Bella’s hair back with a gentle, slightly watery smile. No words were necessary. Then her siblings got up to vacate the room, giving Bella and Renee some privacy.

                Finally she turned back to her mother, who had been looking between the trio with some sense of vacant confusion.

                “Mom, I’m so glad to see you!”

                Renee bent down to hug Bella gently, and she felt warm tears falling on her cheeks.

                “Bella, I was so upset!”

                “I’m sorry, mom. But everything’s fine now, it’s okay,” Bella comforted.

                “I’m just glad to finally see your eyes open.” She sat on the edge of Bella’s bed.

                Bella suddenly realized she didn’t have any idea when it was. “How long have they been closed?”

                “It’s Friday, hon, you’ve been out for a while.”

                “Friday?” Bella was shocked. She tried to remember what day it had been when... but she didn’t want to think about that.

                “They had to keep you sedated for a while, honey—you’ve got a lot of injuries.”

                “I know.” She could feel them, after all.

                “You’re lucky Dr. Cullen was there. He’s such a nice man... very young, though. And he looks more like a model than a doctor...”

                “You met Carlisle?”

                “And Edward’s sister Alice. She’s a lovely girl.”

                “She is,” she agreed wholeheartedly.

                Renee glanced over her shoulder at Edward, lying with his eyes closed in the chair. “You didn’t tell me you had such good friends in Forks.”

                Bella cringed, and then moaned.

                “What hurts?” Renee demanded anxiously, turning back to her. Edward’s eyes flashed to her face.

                “It’s fine,” she assured them. “I just have to remember not to move.”

                Edward lapsed back into his phony slumber.

                She took advantage of her mother’s momentary distraction to keep the subject from returning to Bella’s less-than-candid behavior. “Where’s Phil?” she asked quickly.

                “Florida—oh, Bella! You’ll never guess! Just when we were about to leave, the best news!”

                “Phil got signed?” she guessed.

                “Yes! How did you guess! The Suns, can you believe it?”

                “That’s great, Mom,” Bella said as enthusiastically as she could manage, though she had little idea what that meant.

                “And you’ll like Jacksonville so much,” Renee gushed while Bella stared at her vacantly. “I was a little bit worried when Phil started talking about Akron, what with the snow and everything, because you know how I hate the cold, but now Jacksonville! It’s always sunny, and the humidity really isn’t that bad. We found the cutest house, yellow, with white trim, and a porch just like in an old movie, and this huge oak tree, and it’s just a few minutes from the ocean, and you’ll have your own bathroom—”

                “Wait, Mom!” She interrupted. Edward still had his eyes closed, but he looked too tense to pass as asleep. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to Florida. I live in Forks.”

                “But you don’t have to anymore, silly,” she laughed. “Phil will be able to be around so much more now... we’ve talked about it a lot, and what I’m going to do is trade off on the away games, half the time with you, half the time with him.”

                “Mom.” She hesitated, wondering how best to be diplomatic about this. “I want to live in Forks. I’m already settled in at school, and I have a couple of girlfriends”—she glanced toward Edward again when Bella reminded her of friends, so she tried another direction— “and Beau and Hattie are there. I…need them.”

                “You want to stay in Forks?” she asked, bewildered. The idea was inconceivable to her. And then her eyes flickered back toward Edward. “Why?”

                “I told you—school, my siblings—ouch!” She’d shrugged. Not a good idea.

                Her hands fluttered helplessly over Bella, trying to find a safe place to pat. She made do with Bella’s forehead; it was unbandaged.

                “Your siblings,” she said, wonderingly. “Beau, and…Heather?”

                “Yes,” Bella nodded. “I love her very much, mom. She’s as much my sister as Beau is my brother.”

                “It’s strange…I don’t remember the Potters having a daughter,” Renee commented. “She’s a lovely girl, but I thought they had a son… I could’ve sworn the birth announcement said ‘Harry.’ But—she does look exactly like James did.”

                Bella shook her head. “You must be remembering it wrong.”

                “You’re probably right.  Oh, but Bella…you hate Forks.” She reminded her.

                “It’s not so bad.”

                She frowned and looked back and forth between Edward and Bella, this time very deliberately.

                “Is it this boy?” she whispered.

                Bella opened her mouth to lie, but Renee’s eyes were scrutinizing her face, and she knew her mother would see through that.

                “He’s part of it,” Bella admitted. No need to confess how big a part. “So, have you had a chance to talk with Edward?” she asked.

                “Yes.” Renee hesitated, looking at his perfectly still form. “And I want to talk to you about that.”

                Uh-oh. “What about?”

                “I think that boy is in love with you,” she accused, keeping her voice low.

                “I think so, too,” Bella confided, strangely satisfied.

                “And how do you feel about him?” She only poorly concealed the raging curiosity in her voice.

                Bella sighed, looking away. As much as she loved her mom, this was not a conversation she wanted to have with her. It was one she barely liked to have with Hattie. “I’m pretty crazy about him.” It sounded like a line out of a movie, not at all like something a real teenager would say, but her mother seemed to gobble it up.

                “Well, he seems very nice, and, my goodness, he’s incredibly good-looking, but you’re so young, Bella...” Her voice was unsure; as far as Bella could remember, this was the first time since Bella and Beau were eight that Renee had come close to trying to sound like a parental authority. She recognized the reasonable-but-firm tone of voice from talks she’d had with her about men.

                “I know that, Mom. Don’t worry about it. It’s just a crush,” Bella soothed her.

                “That’s right,” she agreed, easily pleased.

                Then she sighed and glanced guiltily over her shoulder at the big, round clock on the wall.

                “Do you need to go?”

                She bit her lip. “Phil’s supposed to call in a little while... I didn’t know you were going to wake up...”

                “No problem, Mom.” Bella tried to tone down the relief so her mother wouldn’t get her feelings hurt. “I won’t be alone. And Hattie and Beau will come back, too.”

                “I’ll be back soon. I’ve been sleeping here, you know,” she announced, proud of herself.

                “Oh, Mom, you don’t have to do that! You can sleep at home—I’ll never notice.” The swirl of painkillers in her brain was making it hard to concentrate even now, though, apparently, she’d been sleeping for days.

                “I was too nervous,” she admitted sheepishly. “There’s been some crime in the neighborhood, and I don’t like being there alone.”

                “Crime?” Bella asked in alarm.

                “Someone broke into that dance studio around the corner from the house and burned it to the ground—there’s nothing left at all! And they left a stolen car right out front. Do you remember when you and Beau used to dance there, honey?”

                “I remember.” Bella shivered, and winced.

                “I can stay, baby, if you need me.”

                “No, Mom, I’ll be fine. Edward will be with me.”

                She looked like that might be why she wanted to stay. “I’ll be back tonight.” It sounded as much like a warning as it sounded like a promise, and she glanced at Edward again as she said it.

                “I love you, Mom.”

                “I love you, too, Bella. Try to be more careful when you walk, honey, I don’t want to lose you.”

                Edward’s eyes stayed closed, but a wide grin flashed across his face.

—x—

                The Sunday before Bella was discharged, Hattie made her excuses of going ‘adventuring’ and ‘wanting time by herself’ to apparate to the Lycan’s Thorn. Luckily everyone was too caught up in Bella’s mess to really question her, and she was able to sneak away.

                The distance made it slightly draining, but after having a bite of sugar and a quick rest, she was good to go. She was hardly the first to arrive—Yisri and Wulfric were already there, and Noah. At exactly 7 on the nose, the group from the UK Port-Keyed in, landing in a practiced manner. A moment later Archer wandered in, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed (perhaps he had).

                It was the first they’d been all together since Hermione had named their group. _The Blessed Legacy._ Standing together that day, having a name and a common purpose, Hattie felt they were a united front. Together they were already stronger and more connected than they had been before. Perhaps Severus could see it as well—perhaps that’s what the look in his eyes as they followed Legacy calculatingly around the room meant.

                The activity Hattie loved most in the world was moving her body, and this gave her ample excuse to do so. By the end of the lesson, her muscles were achingly sore and tired, but she felt _happy._

                It was true that the magic itself was fairly uninteresting—Severus himself had taught this first lesson, and seemed utterly lost on how to do so. He was used to Hattie’s unethical magic capabilities, but attempting to teach Legacy magical theory appeared to bewilder even him.

                This was probably because most of them didn’t connect spell names to the magic they used; _colloportus_ is not what Hattie pictured in her head when she wanted to lock a door, for example. She just thought about locking a door and that’s what happened. Similarly, when she wanted light, she didn’t think _lumos,_ though she knew that was the spell wand-users spoke—she just thought of light.

                There were spells that they used, of course. _Expecto Patronum,_ for example, or any very powerful spell needed an incantation. And there were spells they recognized from books, or from others’ usage of them. But even if they recognized the name of a spell from hearing it used, sometimes they didn’t know exactly what it did.

                So trying to teach a group of intention-based, wandless wizards by spouting spells and wand movements at them couldn’t work in any world. Eventually he gave up trying to teach them spell names when even the simplest ones often went over their head: _confringo, alohomora, accio, depulso, diffindo…_

                Eventually Severus just began demonstrating a spell and having them repeat it. This was easiest on all of them, though quickly they found the method imperfect: sometimes they couldn’t replicate the effect of a spell perfectly, which led to interesting scenarios.

                For example, the disarming spell. _Expelliarmus._ Severus taught Hattie this spell when she was young, saying, “In the case of an attack, if you are overpowered, sometimes the simplest thing to do is unarm your assailant.” She could perform the spell perfectly after hours of practicing it.

                But she noticed right away that some of her friends weren’t getting the hang of it. They understood the theory—to take away someone’s weapon. But that looked an awful lot like _accio_ in some situations. Instead of flinging the weapon, they summoned it.

                “This is an acceptable error,” Severus said thoughtfully. “However, oftentimes objects are charmed to be unsummonable, in which case this magic would not work for you.”

                The solution, of course, was to learn the spell properly; the intent, the incantation, even the way a wand-user would move his wand. Severus couldn’t tell the change immediately when Legacy finally understood, but Hattie could. Watching her new friends’ lips flutter as they mouthed the spell—watching their outstretched fingers twitch jerkily in a lazy imitation of wand movement—and finally the magic itself. The _feel_ of the magic was different between _accio_ and _expelliarmus._

                Then, when they realized they could replicate the _feeling_ of the magic, that’s often what they tried to do—but that didn’t quite work, either. Replicating a feeling of magic was much more difficult than simply learning the spell itself.

                At one point Noah, looking coolly frustrated, grumbled something angrily in Korean. It sounded like _pae-oom-ay-neun wang-doh-ka op-da._ He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and was allowing Hattie to heal his cut.

                “What does that mean?” Neville asked curiously, from where he was standing nearby. His stray spell was the one that had injured Noah, so he looked pretty apologetic.

                Noah cocked his head to the side and said, “In learning, there is no royal road—you know, like there’s no shortcuts.”

                “Sometimes there is no royal road,” Yisri agreed sagely—as close to joking as Hattie had ever heard her be—after nearly having her fingers chopped off by an accidental _diffindo_ instead of the stinging hex they were supposed to be performing.

                When they parted that day, it was with determination. They all had a greater understanding of how wand-users learned and performed magic, and though it wasn’t the most intuitive process, it would help them all in the long run.

                “Friday night is the full-moon,” Severus coached as they all grouped up before they left. “We will meet again then.”

                “How am I going to participate?” Archer asked in the sudden excitement. He looked like a man who’d been agonizing over something. “There’s never been a werewolf who became an animagus before, because you have to put the mandrake leaf in under the light of the full moon.”

                Severus nodded once. “You will not shift until the moon is at its highest point in the sky. We will simply have to hope you can keep the leaf in your mouth as a wolf.”

                “There’s a spell for that,” Hattie said cheerfully. “It will be okay. But how are you going to get to the woods after our meeting?”

                “I’ll figure it out,” Archer shrugged, and smiled boyishly. The tufts of hair that stuck up like ears on his head wobbled as he looked down at her. “I will have to. I’m a knight, right? Knights always figure it out.”

                “How do you figure you’re a knight?” snorted Ron, arms crossed. Of everyone, he was the sweatiest, his red hair damp and stuck to his forehead.

                “We all are, aren’t we?” Archer rolled his shoulders. “We’ve all been given the prestige and honor of being in a selective group. And we’re under the leadership of our very own monarch.”

                “Queen Hattie,” teased Hermione with a grin, as they all looked at her.

                “I’m not a queen!” protested Hattie, shaking her head. “I’m just as much a knight as the rest of you—if that’s your analogy, then Severus is the monarch.”

                “Leave me out of this, foolish girl,” Severus’ voice was fond, but ice-like.

                “She’s right though,” Neville said softly, looking at her with big, warm eyes. “She’s not a queen. Not yet, anyways—right now she’s more like a princess.”

                “Heir to the throne, but not quite there yet,” laughed Archer. “Alright guys—let’s get out of here!”

                And so they parted, each disappearing from the receiving room to their own various locations. Hattie was one of the last to go, though she was anxious to get back to Bella. She even watched Severus go before she left—watched the port-key kick up magic around his small group, met his eyes as he went. She wasn’t angry with him anymore, but there was still some distance between them that wouldn’t be resolved until she knew the full truth. In his dark eyes she could see he knew that, too, and that it was hurting him.

                Sometimes there are no royal roads, indeed.

                (Later that night, she got the notification in their group chat: _Hattie Swan’s name has been changed to **Princess Hattie.**_ )

—x—

                The following day, Bella was discharged. Though she was still pretty battered and bruised, all that was left to do was heal. There was no risk of internal bleeding or concussion any longer. So Hattie helped Beau pack up the hotel room they’d been staying in and they all went down to the airport together.

                Renee met them there and caused a big scene about how she didn’t think Bella and Beau should go back to Forks, but eventually gave in. From what Hattie could gather, the woman was not very good at parenting anyways, but she could begrudgingly understand. Bella and Beau were Renee’s babies, and she loved them, even if Charlie’s distant attempt at parenting was much better than Renee’s hands-off attempt.

                The Swans were flying back to Forks, the easiest and most comfortable way for Bella. Edward offered to drive Bella’s truck home, to which Charlie reluctantly allowed. (Someone had to do it, after all.) Bella seemed confused and kept asking, “My truck? My truck?” But the doctors said she might have difficulty recalling recent events, so this wasn’t abnormal.

                Bella couldn’t get up and down the stairs easily (or at all, really), so she and Beau switched bedrooms for most of March. Beau still lived upstairs, but the staircase in the house was much less steep and rickety than the one in the loft, so it was the better option. Still, Bella needed help each night getting up them, getting into bed, changing her clothes.

                How the tables had turned from a month ago, when Hattie was the needy one.

                Going back to school on Tuesday was an interesting event. Somehow, even in the tiny town of Forks, everything had miraculously remained a secret. All the school knew was that Bella had missed school for a week, and that Beau and Hattie had missed the majority of the week, and now they were all back.

                And Bella was worse for wear.

                The people who asked Bella what had happened were given the truth, though Bella herself seemed unsure of it. (A side effect of the bump on her head, probably.) She fell down a flight of stairs and out a window. The people who asked Hattie or Beau received varying mischievous answers.

                “She got in a fight with a wall—I know what it looks like, but really, Bella won,” Beau said.

                “It was a deep-sea diving accident. In the entire expanse of the sea she managed to run into a submarine,” Hattie said.

                “She was wearing red at a rodeo.”

                “She thought she was Superman.”

                “She ran away to join the circus and found out the hard way it wasn’t for her.”

                “She got kidnapped by a band of travelling acrobats, but they gave her back because she wasn’t very flexible.”

                But they didn’t know how close some of their jokes came to the truth:

                “She got attacked by an angry vampire, but her blood poisoned him because she’s too pure.”

                “No, no—it was a werewolf!”

                At this, Bella—pale-faced—told them off. They stopped joking about her accident after that.

                The Cullens were an indisputable help getting Bella around the school. Edward in particular was somehow always at the door to Bella’s class as soon as the bell rang, ready to help her carry her things and steady her as she wobbled around on her crutches. When he wasn’t around, Alice and Edythe were, one for each of Bella’s elbows.

                On Friday, Hattie told Beau and Bella she was going to go to sleep. Instead she turned her light off, locked her door, and apparated quietly away. It used a lot of magic to apparate quietly, but it was worth the secrecy in this case.

                That day she was the last to arrive: everyone was waiting, antsy, around the table for her, supplies spread out before them. Archer was in only a pair of cyclist’s shorts despite the chilly March air, and he didn’t look entirely healthy. He seemed a bit under the weather: a little pale, circles under his eyes, not as exuberant and puppy-like as usual.  On the contrary, his hair stuck up even worse than usual, two perfect puppy ears atop his head.

                “How are we doing, Archer?” she asked gently as she sat next to him. She could tell his wild magic was what made the others so antsy: she, too, felt the soft thrill of it beneath her skin and fought the urge to fidget.

                All eyes were on the poor werewolf as he answered. “My bones ache.”

                “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said truthfully. Murmurs of agreement went around the table. “How long, now?”

                “Perhaps forty-five minutes,” he said, and his body wracked with a hard shiver. “So we should get on with it, I think.”

                “The closer you midnight it is when you place the mandrake leaves, the higher the likelihood it will succeed,” Severus’ voice said from the head of the table. Hattie glanced up to look at him.

                She of all people could read the emotion behind his façade of ice: where most people found him unpleasant and snarky, she knew the truth. (Of course, he _was_ unpleasant and snarky, but there were other more important aspects to his character.) Right now she could tell it bothered him to keep Archer waiting. Hattie wasn’t sure if he was fond of the boy (it seemed unlikely, he’d never been fond of anyone but her and perhaps McGonagall) or if he disliked the cruelty.

                “Fine,” Archer said as another shudder overtook his body. “Whether or not we do it now, I will still be in pain.” He managed a plastic-looking smile as they all watched him.

                So they waited, mostly in silence. Even though the others all had activities in front of them, it seemed more important to watch over Archer. Noah and Hermione’s books were untouched, the grimoire that was open before Lydia and Elsie was discarded, Wulfric and Yisri’s quiet conversation ceased. Even Neville and Ron’s game of chess was abandoned as they all watched their friend tremble with the wolf inside of him.

                The magic came in waves. Archer always felt indescribably like _wolf_ , but it was usually hidden beneath the wizard inside of him. Now intermittently his magic became more wolf and less man, more wild and less wizard. It seemed like the wolf was fighting hard for control over the body Archer normally occupied, but Archer and the wolf were one, so the fight was tearing them apart.

                The minutes ticked on. Archer kept glancing longingly out the huge enchanted windows that lined the training room. They looked out over an expanse of the Modoc National Forest in California, where the most wolf-like of Archer’s pack called home. The ones who lived in the Lycan’s Thorn were more connected to their human side, joining their pack only during the full moon.

                But though he was tired and in pain, Archer never seemed regretful of what most would call a curse. His glances at the rising moon were wistful and wanting, not fearful. He yearned to join his pack.

                In this way, he was apart from Legacy. They would never be able to have the bond with him that he had with his packmates, his brothers and sisters. But that was okay.

                “Reckon I’ll be a wolf,” Archer said weakly as time was getting closer. “When it’s all said and done?”

                “I would be surprised if you were not,” Hattie chuckled, looking around at her friends.

                “The wolf inside of you speaks for itself—it will be your spirit animal,” Yisri said. “It always has been your spirit animal.”

                And then, finally, it was time. There was no more waiting. Hattie could simply _feel_ it: a part of Archer disappeared into the wolf. Between one blink and the next, his eyes went from green to gold. If they waited much longer, he would no longer be human.

                Severus quickly sent mandrake leaves flying down the table to each of them. “Hurry now. We must get Mr. Whitborn to his pack.”

                There was a rustle as everyone placed their leaves firmly within their mouths. At first it wasn’t so bad, just strange—the texture of it was a little too rough, a little grainy. Then there was the bitter, earthy taste that made her want to gag. And it was a little too big, unwieldy—it was awkward to hold it within her mouth. Hattie used both of her thumbs and pressed the leaf against the roof of her mouth, using the magic from the Marauders’ grimoire to mold it there. Immediately she felt better—though, as she ran her tongue along the leaf, she found it was still awkward.

                “How do I keep it in?” Archer was asking urgently. He was trembling with great force. “When the wolf takes me?”

                “Here,” Hattie said, and stuck her fingers in his mouth. It was probably stupid of her: it was so close to his transformation that any nick of his teeth could probably change her, too. Indeed, he made a choking noise as she pressed his mandrake leaf up to the roof of his mouth and stuck it there purposefully.

                “Hattie!” he was protesting as she pulled her hands away, his eyes huge. “A little warning, next time?!”

                “I do not plan to make a habit of having my hands in your mouth,” Hattie snarked, then smiled a little shyly. “Sorry. But that should keep it there, I hope. I am not sure how the transformation will effect it, though.”

                He looked like he wanted to protest further, but suddenly he bent double, groaning, holding himself around the middle. As he stumbled, Severus rounded the table and grabbed him by the shoulders.

                “Go _now,_ ” he demanded, firm. Archer glanced up and nodded sharply, darting toward the receiving room. As he went he was fumbling with his bracelet, which was made of wooden beads. There was a compass charm dangling from it that he grabbed between his fingers. As soon as he cleared the wards, without even shutting the door behind him, he was being whisked away by the familiar magic of a port-key.

                There was a beat of silence as everyone stared at where he had been standing. Then, in a most interested voice, Noah said, “Look.”

                They turned to the windows, where Noah was staring curiously. The wolves were there, dozens of them, and Archer—Archer who hit the ground man and stumbled to the dirt wolf, already baying at the moon.

—x—

                The weeks of March rolled over into April, bringing with them heavy rain. Bella continued healing, slowly but steadily. In mid-April she got rid of her crutches, wearing instead a walking boot on her leg, and moved back into the loft. Her bruises faded and the bandages started coming off. There were scars in certain places from the glass, but nothing too horribly noticeable: one along her hairline and some on her back and legs. There was also a curious one on her wrist that Hattie couldn’t get a good look at, but it was almost crescent shaped.

                Hattie continued meeting with her new friends. As the weeks wore on they became better faster, almost impossibly fast—whether this was determination or the result of the way they used magic, Hattie wasn’t sure. They became adept at dueling, often playing war games. Sometimes they left the safety of their training room to spar in the Modoc National Forest with whatever werewolves were willing to inevitably get their butts kicked, but most often they stayed in the Lycan’s Thorn.

                They even got used to the mandrake leaves, though it wasn’t an entirely _pleasant_ sensation. The texture stopped bothering Hattie after a continuous week of rubbing her tongue over it. The taste of it faded away pretty quickly (or maybe she became desensitized to it). Her jaw no longer hurt from the way she had to hold it to speak properly.

                Luckily, Archer’s leaf had indeed stayed put with the charm Hattie had used. The day after the full moon he’d sent a rather gross picture to their group chat of the inside of his mouth, the leaf still firmly intact. This didn’t stop him (or the rest of them) from complaining about it, but as the weeks dragged on the complaints became less and less.

                The amount of time she was spending with Legacy and Bella and Beau caused her to neglect Jacob. She felt guilty about it, and heartsick, but secretly she thought it might be for the best. Each time she met up with the wizards at the Lycan’s Thorn was another week closer to her leaving Forks—and, with it, leaving behind a trail of people she’d grown to love.

                Even still, she found herself sleeping with a framed picture of them. It was from early March, when she and Jacob had gone car shopping together. The salesman had taken the picture of them in front of Hattie’s new car—they were backlit by the sun glinting off of the SUV, and she was wrapped in his arm, and you could feel their happiness just by looking at the picture. It was her strength each time he texted her, _i miss u, when can i see u?_ and she had to say _I’m just so busy right now Jake. I miss you too._

                As opposed to March, April flew by smoothly and quickly. Soon it was the full moon again—the last Sunday in April—and they were all gathered back up to finish their potions. Elsie helped Archer stir his as he lay with his head against the cool wood of the table.

                It was with a cheer that they all spat their mandrake leaves into their respective potions: soggy, decaying leaves that made Hattie want to throw up. She had had _that_ in her mouth for a _month_. The roof of her mouth felt raw and sensitive as she touched it with her tongue.

                The potions also needed a hair from each of them. Hattie added hers in and stirred gently, watching it change colors. The last ingredient was “dew that had been untouched by sunlight or human feet for seven days”, which was a lot to ask, but luckily Severus had collected it for them.

                “There are many places in the Modoc National Forest that are untouched by sunlight or human feet for much longer than seven days,” he explained neutrally as he carefully use a dropper to add exactly one drop of dew to each potion.

                And then they all ladled their potions into crystal vials carefully marked with their names and wandered over to the window for the last step: exposure to the rays of the full moon. As they all lined up at one of the huge windows, holding their vials up to the moon, Hattie smiled.

                They still had a long way to go, but every journey starts with a first step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Noah says is 배움에는 왕도가 없다. Like he says, this translates directly to something like, "As for in learning, there are no royal roads." (Or, "there are no shortcuts in learning.") I romanized it to show the pronunciation the best I could, instead of using official romanization. 
> 
> Hope you guys liked it :)   
> Next chapter: Prom, some Hattie/Jacob angst, and the end of Twilight.   
> Chapter 34: a bridge between Twilight and New Moon (the lost months between May 2005 and September 2005, just some filler and fluff), some animagus stuff


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a lot of quotes I wanted to use for this chapter, which is sort of a transition from Twilight into New Moon—and in a lot of ways a transition for Hattie, as well as Bella and Beau (though we don’t hear much from him). I chose the quote I did because I feel it fits many of our characters. If you haven’t read Cassandra Clare’s books (The Shadowhunter chronicles) I highly, highly recommend you do. This one in particular comes from her prequel trilogy, The Infernal Devices, which is my favorite.

_“Sometimes one must choose whether to be kind or honorable,” he said. “Sometimes one cannot be both.” —Cassandra Clare_

══════

                “Alright, hold still you three,” Charlie grunted. He had Hattie’s hefty, fancy-looking camera balanced in his hands, which he pointed at them. It made gentle shutter noises as he pressed the button, trying to capture the teens in front of him.

                They stood together, in varying poses as he coached them: “Now act like ya love each other, will ya?” or “Let’s take a serious one, y’know, for Renee.” Beau was a head taller than Bella, and head-and-shoulders above Hattie. He stood stoically between them like a watchtower.

                Somehow, even with their vast differences, they _looked_ like siblings—all dark hair and pale skin and bright eyes. Even, Hattie had noticed, the shape of their faces were the same: it must be an Evans trait. Then where the similarities between all three stopped, there were similarities between duos that bridged the gap. Hattie and Beau both had curly hair, Beau and Bella both had brown hair. Bella and Hattie’s ears were the same, and they tucked their hair back the same way.

                It was interesting, how life could lead you to the places you most needed to be. Often Hattie had wondered why she bothered to form relationships in Forks when she couldn’t stay. But the truth was that the relationships she’d formed here had changed her—created a new, better Hattie. One that wasn’t hiding away, scared, constantly worried.

                Maybe that was the point of life: to keep growing and changing until you died. To form new relationships—to love new people—to be hurt and to hurt others. You can’t always help it, after all, and sometimes even kindness hurts. And in the end, you take with you a little bit of each person you love, even if they’re no longer part of your story.

                And Forks—the people in Forks—would always be part of Hattie’s story.

                As the gentle May wind rustled her hair and skirt, Hattie looked up at her cousins-come-siblings. She could hear Charlie still taking pictures in the background, but as Bella and Beau looked down at her, Hattie couldn’t find it in herself to care. If this was all she had—if this was her life’s greatest love—it would be enough. She grinned at them, and they grinned back.

                She would always belong here, to this place, to the comfort of the family who loved her without qualms.

                The quiet purr of Edward Cullen’s Volvo was heard up the street, and soon the car in question was pulling into the Swans’ driveway. Almost before the engine was turned off, he was stepping out of the car—looking entirely too dapper in his suit. His tie, navy blue, matched Bella’s dress perfectly.

                From the passenger seat sprang his sister, Edythe. It still surprised Hattie that she was here—that she wore the soft yellow dress that matched Beau’s tie. After Bella’s accident, Angela and Beau had parted ways. Friendly of course: both had agreed they just weren’t right for each other. It wasn’t until nearly May that Edythe approached Beau while he and Hattie were leaving art class.

                She didn’t beat around the bush with what she wanted, either. “Do you want to go to the prom with me?”

                The trio were stopped in the hallway, blocking traffic, but Beau didn’t seem to notice anyone else around them. He was blinking dumbly at the beautiful girl. Hattie had wondered if she should leave them be, shoved into the awkward position of third wheel. Before she could, Edythe sighed impatiently.

                “Well? Do you?”

                Beau snapped out of it and nodded, once. “I’d love to.”

                Edythe had an inquisitive look on her angelic face as she stared at Beau. It was as if he were a puzzle she could not finish. When she glanced at Hattie briefly, the usual frustrated expression adorned her face (Hattie got the feeling Edythe didn’t like her much). Then she was looking at Beau again.

                “We’re not a couple,” she clarified.

                “Of course not,” Beau agreed, with a sort of cheeky grin. “Why would I think that?”

                “I’m just making sure. So I’ll see you at your house,” Edythe had said. “Okay?”

                Even with all of her bravado, Hattie thought Edythe was just as unsure as the rest of them. She floated through the world on confidence and unattainable perfection, but when she paused to come down to Earth, she was an uncertain little girl.

                Indeed, Edythe’s insistence that she and Beau were ‘ _not a couple’_ seemed to be the case. They didn’t ignore each other in school, but they spared only the briefest of glances at each other—and only when they were sure the other wasn’t looking. Edythe had come to the Swan residence one time, the week previous, to give Beau his tie. Charlie fell in love with her that night and was sure to bring her up in every possible conversation, even when Beau frustratedly explained, “She’s not my girlfriend!”

                Edward and Edythe joined the Swans with happy smiles. Charlie lowered the camera for a moment, looking over them. To Edythe he gave a warm smile and a greeting—Edward received a tight-lipped nod of acknowledgement.

                Charlie seemed to blame Edward for Bella’s accident, and was civil but cold to him. He was of the mind that if it weren’t for Edward, Bella would never have left Forks and gotten hurt. But Hattie didn’t necessarily believe that. Everything about that night was a blur to her—the kind of blur that came with crying and grief. But she felt certain that Bella had gone through emotions very similar to Hattie’s own. Feeling the isolation of leaving everything she knew behind, the yearning for familiarity, the need for her own bed in her own house.

                For months—and even still—Hattie had felt that very same way. The only difference was that Hattie didn’t have the choice of going home, and Bella did.

                And she would never blame her for that.

                The things Bella had said in anger were water under the bridge now. There were things more important than holding grudges. But still, Charlie couldn’t seem to forgive Edward fully—and Edward often appeared to be of the same mind.

                A moment passed before another car pulled up. It idled in the road as the passenger within it stepped out, and once the door was closed behind him, it sped off up the street.

                Hattie, as she watched the tall man step up onto the curb and look at the scene before him, felt her throat clog up. She willed herself not to cry and ruin the makeup she’d spent much of the afternoon perfecting. But her eyes glossed over anyways, some form of love and wistfulness and inexplicable, suffocating _sorrow_ welling up inside of her.

                Jacob Black was entirely too handsome to be allowed.

                Edward was beautiful, with his pale skin and soft angles. Beau too had his own sort of handsomeness: an everyday, boy-next-door type of look. But Jacob…with his dark, russet brown skin… there was just something about him. The way his brown eyes seemed to melt when he caught sight of her, how the tension eased out of his muscled shoulders at her mere presence, the way his lips quirked into a smile that showed one of his bright white canines. Even the collected, predatory slink of his steps as he walked toward her made her heart pound within her chest. And then he had her wrapped up in his arms, and she was swallowed entirely by the girth of him—he’d grown, _again_ , since the last time she saw him.

                “We have to stop meeting like this,” he joked in a whisper meant only for her ears. His warm breath made her shiver a little.

                “It makes everything so much more intense when we do, though,” she protested jokingly, not quite ready to let him go yet.

                “I don’t like being apart from you for so long.” His voice had taken on a ragged quality.

                “I do not like it either,” Hattie admitted, fighting down the emotion in her own voice. “I have just been so…busy.”

                “I know,” he sighed. “I know.”

                And they finally released each other and went to pose with the others.

                Charlie had become much like a soccer mom since Bella’s accident. It was as if he’d suddenly realized what he had and how easily it could be lost—and how much he feared that. Now pictures of their unconventional family littered every surface in the house. He put much more importance on family time, to the point where it almost became suffocating. They even had an Easter celebration, even though none of them were overly religious and all of them were adults.

                And suddenly there were rules that hadn’t been there before: curfews, visiting hours. It didn’t effect Hattie much either way, but she could see how it bothered Bella, who was used to parenting herself. If only she had learned the same lesson from her accident: how much of a privilege it was to have people who cared about you, and how important it was to take care of them.

                “Gather up, everyone,” Charlie was saying. He’d taken pictures of them all standing in a line, Edward and Bella and Beau and Edythe and Jacob and Hattie, but now he was posing them together. “Quite the group, I’d say.”

                And they were. With the boys standing in the back, all about the same height (Jacob a hair taller than the others), and the girls in the front, they were like a scene from a magazine. Edward was on one side, with his perpetually messy bronze hair, the navy blue tie at his throat making his pale skin seem paler. A corsage of white roses and matching blue ribbons was pinned to his lapel. His suit itself was classic black with tails, making him look like a dapper Edwardian gentleman.

                Next to him was Beau, his brown hair styled so that the curls were careful ringlets, a beautiful corsage of sunflowers sitting next to his yellow bowtie. He had on a sleek, slate-gray suit with a black shirt; perhaps it was unconventional, but it looked great on him.

                And then Jacob—perhaps she was biased, but his was the best of all. His sleek hair fell over his shoulders, accentuating his sharp jaw and heavy eyes. The suit was nondescript and black, nothing fancy—underneath he wore an emerald green shirt. His corsage was green and black. The simple colors suited him and the way the suit itself fit to his body was sinful.

                In the front was Bella, her hair in the extravagant braided updo Hattie had worked so hard on. Her dress was navy blue and fell to the floor in such a way you couldn’t even see her walking boot—one of Bella’s “prom night conditions”. You could almost see the nerves in the set of her shoulders.

                Then there was perfect Edythe, whose simple hairdo somehow seemed fancy: it fell to her shoulder blades in gentle waves, her bangs swooped to one side and pinned there. Her dress was, of course, yellow, and reminded Hattie a little bit of Princess Belle’s, only a softer shade. Hattie, standing next to her, could feel how rigid Edythe was, even though she looked relaxed.

                And Hattie herself wore a strapless dress of emerald green. The bodice was sparkling black, and the dress fell in pools to the ground. It was a bit too long for her…she should’ve probably had it tailored. There were a few scars peeking out on her back, but where she once might have hidden them she now wore them proudly. _We all have our hurts._

                “Dad,” Bella groaned after another minute. “Enough pictures—seriously.”

                “I think it’s cute,” Beau laughed, shaking his hair out of his face. “He’s like a mama duck.”

                “Hey—watch yer mouth,” Charlie grumbled, heat rising in his cheeks. But the words had done the trick, and he put away the camera. “Now all of you drive safe, you hear?”

                Edward and Bella were the first to break off as he helped her hobble to the Volvo. When he’d tucked her into the car, he waved goodbye to the rest of them and seated himself. Then Beau and Edythe left in the truck, the deafening roar of its engine all you could hear as it disappeared up the street. And finally, Hattie and Jacob found themselves in her SUV for the first time together.

                “I was really happy when you asked me to come to the prom,” Jacob said once they were driving. Hattie didn’t look away from the road, but she could feel his eyes on her. “I thought… Well it had been over a month. I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way about me.”

                There was a pang in her heart as he said those words, because _of course_ she felt the same way. But how could she explain that one day, possibly soon, she would have to say goodbye to him? How could she explain that she might not be able to come back? That she might die in battle, protecting her people? How could she explain that there were things she would never be allowed to tell him about herself?

                How long did it take before a lie by omission became a full-blown lie?

                Instead she swallowed down her thoughts and said, “I love you, Jacob.”

                It was the first time either of them had said it to each other. Yet it wasn’t a shocking admission—Jacob was just nodding, unsurprised. Somehow, both of them had felt it boiling under the surface, even as they grew distant to each other. It could have been the first time or the thousandth time.

                And it didn’t matter.

                Sometimes love isn’t enough.

                “I love you, too,” he responded quietly. “So why…?”

                “I truly have been busy,” she sighed. “I have been back and forth to Seattle a lot. I am taking self-defense classes, and I am being tutored in a lot of other subjects. And I was busy for a long time helping Bella.”

                “You could have just told me that,” Jacob insisted.

                “I know,” Hattie said. “But I did not know how to tell you the rest.”

                They sat in silence for the length of a stoplight, watching it turn from yellow to red and then to green again. As she eased her foot onto the accelerator, Hattie turned the words over in her mind.

                “I am preparing to go home,” she finally said. It was the truth, and yet also the closest thing to a lie that the truth could be. She wasn’t preparing. She was already prepared—she had made amends with her impending losses. For her people, for her culture, she would give even her own life, and she accepted that. But it wasn’t something he would understand.

                “Home as in—,” Jacob started.

                “England,” Hattie finished for him.

                For some reason she’d expected anger—resentment—hurt. And in a way, he _was_ sorrowful. She could feel it. She’d always been able to feel Jacob’s emotions where she couldn’t any other human’s. But his sorrow was mixed with something else…something like happiness. He was happy for her. Even though he was hurting, he was happy that she was going back to where she had yearned so long to be.

                If only he knew that the tables had turned, and there was nowhere she’d rather be than right where she was.

                But she had promises to keep.

                “When?” he asked. She saw in her mind the Jacob from that day back on the fishing boat, holding his hand out to help her up—playing goofily with the other men—the Jacob who said _I like your accent. You’re like Mary Poppins._ And curled up in the stern of the boat to read a book with her. The Jacob who made her headband, _I just thought…it might look nice on you._ The Jacob who kissed her cheek when he wanted to kiss her lips.

_He kissed my cheek. That means he likes me, right?_

_Oh, Hattie. Yes, I think he likes you._

                If she had known then how hard it would be to part with him—even after knowing him for only half a year—would she have done things differently? Would she have, in deference of her own feelings as well as his, stayed away from him?

                She couldn’t say. Because even though it hurt, it had given her memories and feelings that changed her forever. Jacob, in some ways more than Bella and Beau and Charlie, had made her into Hattie Swan.

                It was important to feel your pain, because the things that hurt are the things that matter. So in the end perhaps the hurt would be worth it—she would weather it gratefully.

                “I don’t know when,” she finally said. “It could be next week. It could be in six months.”

                “And you’re not coming back.”

                She thought of Forks and all the people within it that she loved. How she had thought earlier that Forks would always be part of her story. She felt in her soul that she would always return to Forks, that the only thing that would stop her was death itself. But she feared telling Jacob that would be a catalyst. It would give him hope, and perhaps he would wait for her—and she didn’t want to be the deciding factor in his life. She couldn’t be.

                Not when she didn’t know if she could return, or how long it would be.

                So, with a sigh, she shook her head. “I wish I had the answers for you, Jacob. That is why I have avoided you.”

                “But I can still text you,” Jacob said. “Or write.”

                “Probably not,” Hattie responded sadly. “My phone service will not work overseas. And where I am going, there is no post—letters would have to be hand-delivered.”

                “How will you contact Charlie? And the Swans?” Jacob demanded. It was the first time she felt him getting angry, and even in his voice there was but a subtle hint of it.

                “I won’t.”

                Jacob’s anger turned to desperation. “How will we know you’re okay?”

                Hattie smiled self-deprecatingly. Hadn’t she asked herself that same question a hundred times before? Hadn’t that been exactly what she agonized over for weeks now?  _I wish I knew who would tell my family if I died. How long would it take someone to think of doing it? Would they know immediately, or would it take several months? Would they never know? Would they go on hoping for me to return for years, until eventually my presence became but a memory to them? Would they mourn me?_ But he couldn’t know those things. So she just said, “You won’t.”

                “I just have to accept that you’re leaving and I can’t follow you, and I can’t contact you, and nobody will know if you’re okay?”

                He asked it as if he thought it sounded ridiculous, and it _was_ ridiculous. But she didn’t hesitate to answer.

                “Yes.”

                “I don’t like it.”

                “You do not have to like it. It is what it is.”

                As they pulled into the high school and parked, Jacob grabbed her by the shoulders and bodily turned her to face him. She didn’t resist, though it was harder to look him in the eye. He was searching her expression tiresomely. He must’ve found something within it that steeled his own nerve, because he nodded.

                “You’ll tell me when you go?” he whispered.

                Hattie swallowed thickly, inexplicable tears springing up in her eyes. “Yes, I will tell you.”

                “You promise?” Jacob begged.

                “I promise,” Hattie said. If in the end that was the only thing she could give him, then she would do whatever she had to do to keep that promise.

                Jacob inhaled sharply, still looking at her with those huge eyes. He let his breath out slowly, but it wasn’t shaky: she knew by the way his aura felt that he was controlling his emotions. It made her feel guilty, but it also made her admire him even more. Finally, he nodded again.

                “But until then,” he said in a voice that somehow sounded happy. “Until the day you leave, I have you. You’re mine.”

                “Jacob—”

                “No more talk of leaving or goodbyes. Let’s have fun, Hattie. Let’s make the most of our time together.”

                Hattie silenced the words that begged to come out of her mouth—the _maybe it’s bests…_ and the _you shouldn’t waits…_ If this was what he wanted, then she would give it to him. She owed him that much.

                So they went in together, Hattie holding her skirts above the ground, Jacob sweeping her along with his arm. And they danced. And they forgot about all of the circumstances holding them back.

                And they had fun.

—x—

                There was a very peculiar moment, whilst they were dancing, when Edward’s face went carefully blank. Then it turned to anger.

                “What is it?” Bella wondered aloud. They’d been having a lot of fun together, surprisingly. She only agreed to come to this dance because Hattie and Beau wanted her to, and she already owned the monopoly of hurting the ones she loved. There was no point in continuing to do so when it gained nothing for her.

                She followed Edward’s gaze across the dance floor, disoriented by the spinning, but she finally saw what he was looking at. Jacob Black had handed Hattie off to some of their friends and was making his way steadily toward them.

                Edward snarled very quietly. Bella jumped in surprise. He hadn’t exactly made his dislike for Jacob secret, but she thought they were getting on pretty well today—if only for Hattie and Bella’s sake. Bella thought it was quite sweet that Edward was fond of her sister (even if it _was_ a confused, “I don’t know what to make of her” sort of fondness).

                “What’s that about?” she demanded, as Jacob got closer.

                “He wants to chat with you,” Edward said scathingly.

                Jacob reached them then, embarrassment and apology clear on his face. Bella tried to imagine what it was he needed so desperately to chat with her about.

                “Hey, Bella. I was hoping I could cut in,” he said, sounding like he very much hoped the opposite. But his smile was warm and sweet.

                Edward’s face was carefully blank. His only response was to set Bella carefully on her feet and take a step back.

                “Thanks,” Jacob said amicably.

                Edward just nodded, looking at Bella intently before he turned to walk away.

                Jacob put his hands on Bella’s waist, careful of propriety, and she reached up to put her arms around his neck. He didn’t look exactly uncomfortable, but there was no ease about him either—he was stiff.

                “I guess I should just get this over with,” Jacob said begrudgingly. “My dad told me he’d get me the master cylinder for my car if I came and talked to you.”

                “Tell me, then. I want you to get your car fixed for Hattie.” Bella was grinning as she said it, but at the mention of her sister, Jacob’s face pinched with unreadable emotion. They had looked so happy all night, so Bella wasn’t sure what that look was about—perhaps she’d have to talk to Hattie tonight.

                “Don’t get mad, okay?” Jacob asked carefully. He seemed a little ashamed.

                “I won’t get mad at you, Jacob,” Bella promised. “I won’t even be mad at Billy. Just say what you have to.”

                “This is so stupid, Bella,” Jacob shook his head in disgust. “I’m sorry—he wants you to break up with your boyfriend. He asked me to tell you ‘please’.”

                “He's still superstitious, eh?”

                “Yeah. He was... kind of over the top when you got hurt down in Phoenix. He didn't believe...” Jacob trailed off a little self-consciously.

                Bella’s eyes narrowed. “I fell.”

                “I know that,” Jacob said. His voice was calm, but quick.

                “He thinks Edward had something to do with me getting hurt.” It wasn't a question, and despite her promise, she was angry.

                Jacob wouldn't meet her eyes. They weren't even bothering to sway to the music, though his hands were still on her waist, and hers around his neck.

                “Look, Jacob, I know Billy probably won't believe this, but just so you know”—he looked at her now, responding to the new earnestness in her voice—“Edward really did save my life. If it weren't for Edward and his father, I'd be dead.”

                “I know,” he claimed, but he sounded like her sincere words had affected him some. Maybe he'd be able to convince Billy of that much, at least.

                “Hey, I'm sorry you had to do this, Jacob. I know you’d much rather be dancing with Hattie.” Bella apologized. “At any rate, you get your parts, right?”

                “Yeah,” he muttered. He was still looking awkward... upset.

                “There's more?” she asked in disbelief.

                “Forget it,” he mumbled, “I'll get a job and save the money myself.”

                She glared at him until he met her gaze. “Just spit it out, Jacob.”

                “It's really bad.”

                “I don't care. Tell me,” Bella insisted.

                “Okay... but, geez, this sounds bad.” He shook his head. “He said to tell you, no, to warn you, that—and this is his plural, not mine” —he lifted one hand from her waist and made little quotations marks in the air—“‘We’ll be watching.’” He watched warily for her reaction.

                It sounded like something from a mafia movie. She laughed out loud.

                “Sorry you had to do this, Jake,” She snickered again.

                “I’m glad you’re not mad. Hattie would probably kick my butt.” He grinned in relief. His eyes, though, were sad. “So, should I tell him you said to butt the hell out?” he asked hopefully.

                “No,” she sighed. “Tell him I said thanks. I know he means well. And Jake?”

                “Yeah?” he asked. For a moment his eyes had wandered over her shoulder to watch Hattie.

                “Hattie…my sister…she doesn’t know about this, right?”

                It was a bit of desperation that tinged her voice. Hattie had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to worry about her boyfriend’s father’s superstitions on top of it. (Even if there was some truth to them.)

                Jacob looked back up at Hattie and smiled, a little melancholy. “No, she doesn’t.”

                “Okay, good. Is everything okay?” She asked carefully.

                He sighed and then nodded with a small smile. “Everything’s okay.”

                Even with the little she knew of Jacob, she could tell he was lying. She only hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite Hattie in the end.

                The song finally ended, and she dropped her arms.

                His hands dropped from her waist, and he glanced at her bum leg. “Can I help you get somewhere?” He seemed distracted even as he asked it.

                But Edward was beside them suddenly. He grimaced a little as he forced the civil words from his lips. “That’s alright, Jacob. I’ve got it from here.”

                “Oh, alright,” Jacob nodded. “See you around, Bella—Edward.”

                Then he was making his way back toward Hattie, who sat at a table alone drinking punch. She looked like a forlorn princess in her prom attire, her skirts spread around her on the chair. Bella just watched until Jacob had crossed all the way through the dance floor to sit next to her sister, the sadness dissipating with each step he took toward her until his gait was light and happy.

                Bella frowned. “I wonder what that’s about.”

                Edward, who had wound his arms around her as the next song started, just shook his head. “I feel I shouldn’t tell you. It’s probably an invasion of privacy.”

                “Now you _have_ to tell me,” she ordered, her curiosity increasing.

                “Hattie and Jacob appear to be in the midst of a long breakup.”

                Bella just stared at him dumbfoundedly. Of all the things she expected him to say, this was not it: Hattie and Jacob were two of the most obviously in-love people Bella knew. Sure they hadn’t seen each other in a while, but there had been nothing in Hattie’s behavior that led Bella to believe they were breaking up. And Jacob was pretending to be happy—so clearly her sister was the one doing the breaking up part.

                “What does that mean?” she asked finally.

                “It means Hattie is preparing to go back to England,” Edward said gently. He looked sad—sad for Bella? “And has warned Jacob that that means they’ll be apart.”

                Bella gave a hefty sigh. Of course she knew of her sister’s plans to go ‘home’. Beau had told her, and Hattie herself had said so. But she’d never thought about what that meant for Jacob and Hattie. It made her feel sad for them, for the relationship that they shared.

                “Enough of this,” Edward said pleasantly. “Young love comes and goes. If they are meant to be together, they will be. Now come.”

                Suddenly he was spinning her through the crowd, toward the back door of the gym. Bella caught a glimpse of Jessica and Mike dancing, staring at her curiously. Angela was there too, looking blissfully happy in the arms of little Ben Cheney. She didn’t look up from his eyes, a head lower than hers. There was Lee and Samantha, Lauren and Tyler, Beau and Edythe—all of the Cullens—and of course, Hattie and Jacob, leaning close to each other as if they never wanted the song to end. He appeared to be whispering quietly to her, or perhaps singing, and she had her eyes closed just listening to him.

                As they absconded beneath the trees at the edge of the forest, staring up at the twilit sky, Bella sighed. The moon was already up, visible through the gauzy clouds.

                Edward appeared to be feeling the same emotions. “Twilight, again,” he murmured. “Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always ends.”

                “Some things don’t have to end,” Bella disagreed tensely.

                He sighed.

                “So ready for this to be the end,” he whispered, almost to himself. “for this to be the twilight of your life, though your life has barely started. You’re ready to give up everything.”

                “It’s not the end, it’s the beginning,” Bella insisted under her breath.

                “I’m not worth it,” Edward said sadly. “Not worth you giving up Beau—or Hattie.”

                Bella looked away, closing her eyes against the images in her brain. She could see Hattie and Beau mourning her. Growing older, starting families. All the while, Bella would be a teenager…she would always have to bear the grief that the loss of her siblings would cause her.

                “Love is worth it,” she said, even as she forced the sorrow from her heart.

                “Sometimes love is not enough,” Edward denied.

                “Besides…” Bella hesitated, blushing. “Beau—and Edythe. Perhaps…?”

                Edward tensed underneath her. “No.”

                “No?”

                “You wish to damn your brother to the life you would choose for yourself?” Edward asked. “I had thought better of you, Bella.”

                Bella felt ashamed as he scolded her. “I wouldn’t have to lose him, then.”

                “But he would have to give everything up to stay with you,” he murmured. “I don’t think it’s an option.”

                They sat together under the canopy of the trees for a while longer in silence, each lost in their own sorrows. Bella was coming to terms with the idea that no matter what she chose, she would lose somebody: but who was she more prepared to give up, her siblings or the love of her life? What was the heavier loss? She knew how her siblings would pick. Both had always valued familial love over romantic. They would choose heartbreak over the loss of family any day.

                But was it so bad that she, herself, wasn’t sure? She could watch Hattie and Beau from the shadows and be sure that they were okay, but if she chose the other way around, it wouldn’t be an option to watch over Edward.

                She couldn’t lose all of them. It wasn’t an option. She would just have to choose carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is -- the end of Twilight, and the beginning of our transition into New Moon. That was... something. That being said, I'm still not that far into New Moon (and most of what I have written is Hattie's side of things), so if there's anything you want to see -- speak now!! I'm still trying to figure out what to do with Beau. Whether he should be with Edythe (one reviewer wants this), one of the wolves, a wizard... I have something small in mind for him, but if we want him to be with Edythe, it won't work. Let me know, guys! 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter **@QueenBuzzle**


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are, a small bridge between Twilight and New Moon! Follow me on Twitter **@QueenBuzzle** for small excerpts and clickbait xD

_“As is often the case, it was the easier choice to make and the more difficult choice to live with.” ―Hank Green_

══════

**JUNE 2005**

                “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus,”_ said a chorus of voices. “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”_

The incantation resonated around the otherwise-empty training room at the Lycan’s Thorn. The half with wooden floors and training mats was darkened—only the half with the table, full of students, was lit up. Every once in a while the room lit up with the flash of lightning outside the large windows. The only sound in the room was the incantation and the clinking of crystal phials, each teenager careful not to disturb the months-long process. Should anyone interrupt now, they would have to start all over.

                There were ten in total: ten teenagers, five boys and five girls, sitting around the table. Each held a phial of blood-red potion, upon which they were each casting the spell.

                “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus,”_ they chanted.

                One potion bubbled and hissed as it turned clear as water. The girl holding it stared wide-eyed, surprised, and then hurriedly moved from the table into the darkened half of the training room. There she found a mat and sat upon it, scrutinizing the phial for a moment. Afterward, she tipped it back into her mouth and swallowed it.

                The others, seeing her success, began the chant again. “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”_

                It’d been a long process from start to finish: a month of holding a mandrake leaf within their mouths, exposure to the rays of the full moon, a month of complete undisturbed silence, exposure once again to the full moon. Now, three months since the beginning, there was a lightning storm. This was the catalyst: this part of the process was only viable under the effects of a lightning storm.

                One by one the potions turned clear. One by one their professor watched as they left the table to join their friend on the training mats. Finally there was only one last teen left chanting; she was getting frantic as her potion stubbornly stayed red. Once, she glanced up at her stern-faced professor, seeking affirmation.

                His hard eyes shuttered as he nodded to her. _You will do it. Of that, I have no doubt._

                And then finally it turned, bubbling inside the phial—almost boiling—until it was clear. She stared at it with awe and turned to join her friends. The mats were arranged still in the neat rows from last lesson, when they had practiced hand-to-hand combat with werewolves. Her friends had all filed in and left the one directly in front for her.

                Even after these months of training together, they still saw her as Queen.

                She folded her legs beneath her as she sat, staring at her phial. For some reason, her heart began to beat rapidly. None of this had been what she was expecting. She thought she would be first in line—she thought her spirit would shine through so strongly the potion would change with the first syllables of the incantation. But as the time had drawn on, she became more and more nervous. Did she not have a spirit animal? Was all of this work for naught?

                And now here she was, and yet it was difficult to make herself drink.

                At the end of this road, what would she see? A reflection of her innermost self. How terrifying. What if she didn’t like what was shown to her? What if it reflected a part of herself she would rather keep hidden? What if the fruits of her labor bore only difficult truths?

                The others would be fine. She knew in her heart of hearts that every member of her team was important. Regal Wulfric, proud Yisri, careful Noah, sweet Elsie, playful Archer, calculating Ron, caring Neville, head-strong Lydia, and intelligent Hermione; each of them would have favorable results. She knew it the way she knew her own name. But her? Which trait of hers was most prominent?

                The soft swish of robes caught her attention as their professor knelt in front of her. He did not dare speak, but she could read his command in his eyes: _do it. Now._

                And so she did.

                The potion was as smooth as water, and flavorless despite the ingredients. At first her heartrate picked up, because nothing was happening. She thought somehow she had willfully changed her potion into another altogether; as she opened her mouth to say as much, she hit the mat with a thud. It seemed she was no longer within her body, she had no control.

                And then they were opening their eyes.

                It felt _right._ It felt right in the way that nothing else in their life had ever felt: like putting on their own skin after years of wearing someone else’s. They were pacing in an arid environment, the grass long and scraggly—dry from the sun. Nearby there were a few low, crooked-looking trees. There was a desperation within them, the need to _find_ … A burning question within them that lit a fire of confusion and desperation. They began tumbling through the weedy grass, headed in any direction; anywhere was better than nowhere.

                As they walked they brought their hands up to their face, noting that they were human. _This isn’t right._

                The hands were familiar to them. They were large and rough with years of use, the fingernails blunt and short. They bit their nails, too—it was a fact suddenly remembered. They clenched their right hand as if holding a thin cylindrical object, outstretching it away from themselves. It felt natural. It felt unnatural.

                The hand was scarred with some writing they could not fully make out, but somehow knew anyways. _I must not tell lies._ Deep, silvery script in their own handwriting. _This isn’t right._

                Unease rippled through them as they stumbled through the grass, feeling suddenly too big and clumsy. Far away an animal appeared, but a speck on the horizon: they began running desperately toward it, hoping for answers. They could have run for hours—maybe it was even days. But it seemed like no matter how long they ran, the horizon never got closer.

                After what could have been weeks, they stopped, for the horizon was gone. It had faded away into a stark white room of mirrors. They approached, horrified at the image they were seeing. As they reached the scarred hand up to touch the silvery mirror, a beast paced up beside them.

                They weren’t … he wasn’t… _she wasn’t right._ She struggled to clear her head. This was not her body. This was not her. But it felt right. She caressed the face staring back at her with horrified eyes.

                And still the only thing she could think was, _Ah. There you are. I’ve been looking for you._

                From beside her—them—whatever they were—came a low churring sound. She turned their head away from the mirror to look down at their companion.

                Immediately her horror was replaced with insurmountable fondness, pride she did not know they were capable of. The beast was a large lion, standing tall beside them, its mane flowing around its head. It did not sense anything wrong with them, only butting its head into their hand as they reached out.

                When the two beings touched, it was as if balance had been restored. All of their unease drifted away as if swept by the ocean. She smiled, and glanced up into the mirror.

                It was Harry.

                And then it was Hattie.

—x—

                There was light chatter in the training room when Hattie woke up. She was briefly groggy, staring at the high ceiling. When had she laid down? She couldn’t remember. The training mat was surprisingly comfortable, and yet she felt ill-rested.

                She sat up, moaning quietly and holding her head. This must be what a hangover felt like: dehydrated and headachy. Everything spun around her for a moment as she regained her balance, swaying. She squeezed her eyes shut, still holding her head.

                “Of course I’m a wolf,” Archer’s amused voice was saying. He sounded chipper. “But none of us really thought any different, right?”

                “It would have been highly surprising if that weren’t the case,” agreed Wulfric’s baritone. “And I am some sort of bird. Perhaps an eagle. I will have to research.”

                “I was hoping you’d be a wolf too, Wulf,” joked Archer.

                “Amusing,” Wulfric snorted.

                “It was a strange experience for me,” one of the girls said—Elsie. “It was like I was searching for something. I was in this wide open field. There was nothing and nobody around me, but I knew that I had l lost something there. Something important. And the longer time drew on the more desperate I got.”

                “Until you found it,” Hermione said. “That piece of you that was always there.”

                “Yes,” Elsie gave a relieved sigh. Hattie could almost picture her smiling bashfully. “The piece of me that was always there.”

                “What was it?” Hermione wondered, curiosity tinging her warm voice.

                “A dormouse,” Elsie laughed. “Tiny. Atop a flower. But it was like she had been searching for me, too: when I reached down, she scrambled up my arm, and I felt complete.”

                There was the burble of other voices, telling their own journeys: Ron, who was wandering the empty streets of London and stumbled across a dog. Hermione who, whilst swimming in the ocean, was joined by an otter. Lydia and a fox darting through the Modoc National Forest. Yisri, who found a fluffy white cat curled up in a library nook. Noah, prowling through a forest in North Korea, alit upon the trail of a large animal. “Seu-ra-so-ni,” he said, then amended: “Lynx.” Neville said he, too, had been in a forest—in the trees. He’d climbed around until he found what he was looking for, a small red panda.

                Hattie blinked open her eyes as he finished his story, making another small sound. The room stayed in focus this time, so she stretched, her back cracking. Slowly pieces of her own journey were coming back to her, of racing desperately through the scraggly Kalahari, lost and confused in a body not her own.

                Just as she was coming out of her stretch, the others noticed she was awake.

                “Hattie!” Hermione called, startling the others. “You’re awake.”

                She could’ve used another two hours of sleep, to be honest—but the clear sky outside the window told her she’d already slept long enough. “I am,” she agreed, allowing a small smile to come across her lips.

                “Everyone was successful,” Hermione said delicately. “Were you?”

                “I heard,” Hattie nodded. “And I was.”

                The others all watched her patiently as she collected herself. There were things she was unsure of, things she didn’t understand herself. Of Harry. Of the way that she felt in his body, like his skin fit better than her own. It brought back memories she didn’t know the origin of—racing through a Quidditch pitch and riding a centaur and storming the ministry.

                But then a smile came to her face. Her fears of what might be revealed about herself had been moot—for her spirit animal was courageous and loyal, proud and strong, the king of animals.

                “I am a lion,” she said, surely, with no other explanation.

                One of the boys whooped, and Archer joked, “My lady—I told you that you were a queen!”

                Hattie cracked a mischievous grin. “Did I misspeak? I am sure I did not say lion _ess_ , dear knight.”

                It left him speechless for a moment before he composed himself into a mask of incredulity. Then, he went down on one knee and bowed his head. “Forgive me, your highness—I was unaware that you were King!”

—x—

**JULY 2005**

                Hattie wandered aimlessly around her bedroom. She’d been kicked out of the house: Bella and Beau were whipping up a “surprise” for her. (She could smell something baking in the oven, and she knew they’d ordered her favorite takeout for dinner.) She didn’t really _want_ a party, unaccustomed to the tradition. Most years Severus gave her something small and they had dinner together, curled up with their respective novels in the living room instead of the study.

                On normal Sundays she was in Seattle by now, elbow deep in some lesson or another. Perhaps she would be practicing physical combat with her group members, or darting in and out of the forest with werewolves, or climbing trees, or shooting spells at training dummies, or practicing her Animagus transformation. Sometimes their work looked an awful lot like play. Sometimes it looked like broken bones and garish cuts healed quickly with spells.

                But—since it was her birthday, she was exiled to a Sunday of anxious rest.

                Not that she hadn’t heard from her members: they had, of course, texted her ceaselessly all throughout the morning.

**Group: THE BLESSED LEGACY**

**Hermione: HAPPY BIRTHDAY OUR DEAREST HATTIE**

**Archer: happy birthday queenie <3**

**Noah:** **생일ㅊㅋ** **! Happy birthday!**

**Ron: do i have to say it to?**

**Hermione: you think that us saying it gets you out of it?**

**Ron: i just think its probably annoying**

**getting so many messages**

**so early**

**ON UR BDAY**

**Hattie: im muting you guys**

**Elsie: wait, don’t go yet! Half of us still haven’t said happy birthday!**

**Oh!**

**Happy birthday!**

                But of course they continued messaging her. Lydia even sent a picture of herself holding up a cupcake, and followed up with, **because it’s your birthday so I’m celebrating.** And Wulfric said that only Elsie was underage now, and suggested they have a drink together on Elsie’s own birthday.

                Moony, looking troubled, had contacted Hattie via the mirror—which had become their way of communicating. She no longer associated the mirror with Severus, but its rightful owner. He forgot about the time difference, however, so their quiet conversation took place at four in the morning in Hattie’s bed. It was nice, though, and she was able to fall back to sleep when he hung up.

                Jacob sent her plentiful texts during the day, their tenuous relationship having survived the prom and Hattie’s announcement. He seemed intent on forgetting about their troubles and enjoying their time together, and Hattie (though a bit guiltily) was allowing it. He sent her several pictures in quick succession: a small gift wrapped in pink paper ( ** _for u!_** _),_ a larger rectangle wrapped in purple paper ( ** _for u!_** _)_ , a bouquet of flowers ( ** _for u!_** _)_ , and himself making a kissy face and pointing to his lips _( **for u!** )_. And throughout the day he sent her multiple texts full of sweet nothings.

                Severus was the only one she had expected to hear from, and yet he was frustratingly silent. He couldn’t be _that_ busy, since he had planned on being in Seattle to teach a lesson that was cancelled. But she just told herself he would call when he called, and left it at that.

                When Bella and Beau finally let her back in the house—or more accurately, _dragged her_ back into the house—it was to a small, cute party. Someone had hung streamers from the ceiling and there were honest to god balloons. And there was her family, around the delicious-looking (if sloppy) birthday cake: Charlie, Bella, and Beau, and Jacob and Billy. They sang to her and everything, off tune, the Swan family all blushing brilliant red. But it was nice.

                She thankfully only received a few small gifts. Though she was grateful for everything given to her, she was most surprised by the gifts Beau and Jacob gave. Beau gave her a painting of a trio of fluffy baby birds sitting on a crooked tree branch.

                “Because you’re a baby bird,” he joked, grinning a toothy grin.

                “I am not,” Hattie protested, trying to push down her smile. “I am a fearsome lion!”

                “That too,” Beau nodded agreeably. The others all laughed, even though Hattie was completely serious.

                 Jacob gave her a book, but it was his other gift that nearly brought tears to her eyes. It was a bracelet made of hand-carved wooden beads—small and perfectly round, with intricate designs carved into each one. The designs were inlaid with a lustrous silver powder and the beads were sealed with a glossy varnish to keep water from damaging them. And on the front of the bracelet was a larger bead, painted with tiny purple heathers.

                “You made this?” she asked quietly as she led him from the house.

                “Yeah,” Jacob scratched the back of his neck. “I know it’s not much—Beau’s painting was really cool.”

                “No, Jacob—I love it. It’s beautiful,” Hattie insisted. She looked at where it laid on her wrist, a perfect fit, and wondered how he’d guessed.

                “I wanted you to have something to remember me by when you leave,” he admitted. It was one of the first times he sounded truly sad that she was leaving, and it made her wish she had just broken things off—or that she could stay.

                “I’ll wear it,” she promised.

                “I know you will,” Jacob grinned suddenly and reached out to pluck at something on her head. “You still wear this thing, and it’s not half as nice.”

                He was, of course, talking about the leather headband he’d woven for her: it was true that it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the bracelet, but Hattie held a certain attachment to it. She wore it almost every day. Perhaps that was why he still held on such hope that she would come back to him.

                Though it wasn’t as if she were particularly reluctant to give him up yet herself.

                They walked a trail together through the summery woods, listening to the crickets chirp. It was perfect: the sun-warmed forest smelled like soil and leaves and tree bark, even as the sun itself dipped below the horizon. Summer in Washington wasn’t overly hot, and so it wasn’t uncomfortable to be outside. There had been little rain, as well, though the constant cloud cover meant there wasn’t exactly sunshine—but at least the ground was mostly dry.

                “I should take you hiking sometime,” Jacob proposed, helping her climb over a fallen tree. Vaguely she remembered avoiding it in her previous explorations, back in December; now, with Jacob’s sturdy presence, it seemed entirely less nefarious. It was covered in a blanket of moss after all these months untouched, slippery under her feet.

                “That sounds exciting,” Hattie commented, grunting as she half-slid, half-jumped to the ground. When the tree had fallen, it landed against another tree, using it as a prop—so the trunk was at an angle to the ground. At its highest point a child could probably squeeze under it, and at its lowest, it was a bit of a climb for Hattie.

                Jacob, however, was tall enough now that he could just sling his leg over and nearly touch the ground. She was envious of his ability as she brushed the moss off the backs of her bare thighs.

                “There’s a great trail starting near First Beach,” her sort-of boyfriend continued, leading her through the woods. “My friends and I have hiked it a few times. The locals say you can sometimes see wolves out there, but I’ve never seen any.”

                “Would it not be dangerous to hike where there’s been wolf sightings?” Hattie questioned.

                “There hasn’t been any in years,” he said. “Besides—I would protect you.”

                Her lips quirked up into a smile. She swooped down and scooped a branch off the ground, whirling to point it at him. “I think you will find I can protect myself.”

                With a grin, he bent to find his own branch. “Oh? I think we’ll see about that.”

                “Mighty words for someone whose sword is moldy,” Hattie chirped, and they commenced a swordfight, branches clashing noisily.

                It was perhaps a bit of an unfair fight: Hattie had been learning to fight for nearly the last sixteen weeks, including using a weapon. The branch was actually sort of similar to the wooden dowels the Modoc Pack taught them to fight with, so it felt natural to wield it against a foe. And very clearly Jacob had never been taught to use a sword-like weapon: though Hattie was but a beginner herself, she could see all of his weak spots.

                As she twisted around a tree and whirled back to face him again, she made note of the moldy section of his branch. It was in the middle, and it was soggy enough that the branch was starting to bend a little bit. Even if she left well enough alone, it would probably break… but she wanted to show off a little. She feigned to the right with her “sword” and when he moved to block her with his, she made a quick, sudden upward jab directly into the moldy part. She hit it with enough force that she nearly knocked the entire branch out of his hand, but instead it just broke in half.

                He looked at it in shock for a moment, then at her. Whatever he saw in her expression (smugness, probably) made him school his expression into something akin to cockiness.

                “How embarrassing for you, to have brought a sword to a knife fight.”

                “On the contrary, I think it is embarrassing for you to have brought a knife to a swordfight.”

                And then she was engulfed in his arms. She gave a squeak of surprise, having dropped her guard: he moved in so close so quickly that she didn’t even have time to move her “sword” into position. Now it was trapped between her and a tree, and she could feel Jacob’s “knife” pressed against her stomach.

                “I think,” he said, roughly, “I just gutted you.”

                “Indeed,” Hattie whispered, the heat of his breath on her face and neck making her dizzy. “I am dying.”

                She let her sword fall to the ground, useless now anyways—the hand that had been holding it was pinned near her head, the fingers curled loosely.

                Jacob’s own weapon dropped now, too, hitting the ground between their feet, the noise muffled by the leaves. He drew his nose across her jaw, just barely touching her; her heartbeat increased. “Maybe I can still save you,” he proposed.

                “I—I am not sure how,” Hattie stuttered. She was suddenly aware of how utterly alone they were, how unlikely it was someone would come interrupt. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

                Jacob’s hand, which had been holding the knife, came up to cradle her stomach. His fingers danced along the hemline of her shirt, and then up underneath of it—she gasped at the feeling of his hand against her bare skin, a spike of icy heat shooting through her body. He palmed her stomach almost lovingly, as if it were the greatest part of her.

                “I love you, Hattie,” he said, his voice deep. Then he was kissing her, his lips rough as he tilted her head back, like he was trying to prove his words to her. If she didn’t already believe him, it would have worked, too: the way his hands worshipped the most innocent parts of her skin, made them heavenly—made them sinful. The hand restraining her arm inched up to instead intertwine its fingers with hers. That was how they kissed, then; one hand high in the air, cradled together against the trunk of a tree—the other caressing her stomach and hips and back, never straying too high or too low.

                In some ways she wished it would.

                In some ways, she was glad it didn’t. It would make everything more difficult, in the end.

                He broke his mouth away from hers, kissing across the side of her face, down her neck, onto her collarbones—the path of his kisses lit fire within her and she gasped, her head lolling to the side to give him ample room. He smiled against her skin, leaning to press one final, lingering kiss at the neckline of her shirt before pulling away.

                “I love you,” he said again.

                “I love you, too,” she breathed. It wasn’t just the heat within her making her say it, but she still felt guilty.

                A far-away look came into his eyes, as if he knew exactly what she felt when she said those words. As if he could read the shame in her soul for selfishly keeping him instead of freeing him to the world. She knew that was what he deserved—the freedom of not being anchored to a girl who might as well be walking to her death.

                “If I asked you to stay,” Jacob asked, as they walked back toward the Swan residence. “Would you?”

                Hattie was quiet. She could feel even as he spoke it that he knew the answer already, and that it wouldn’t surprise him. Since that day at prom, he had abided by his promise to take things as they were—to face every day with a smile and just have fun. _Until then, I have you. You’re mine._ He hadn’t brought up her leaving, and for his sake, neither had she.

                But neither of them had ever pretended that it wasn’t constantly there between them, like a poisonous vine that cloyed its way a little deeper with each touch and each whispered _I love you._ Each day they were together was another month of grief at the end. And yet perhaps it wasn’t so much a poison as an addiction; she couldn’t give him up, and he _wouldn’t_ give her up.

                Sometimes there are no happy endings. Sometimes all you can be is sad.

                So she didn’t answer him, because they both knew what she would say, and saying it aloud would only hurt a little deeper. Instead, he continued talking quietly.

                “I think the worst part is knowing that you don’t want to leave me.” At her expression, he smiled ruefully. “What? Did you think I didn’t know that? Hattie, I can read you like a book. I keep thinking, _maybe the more we’re together the less likely she is to leave._ But I know that’s not the case. I know that you’re going, I know you want to go. And I want you to be happy. Because I love you. But I also know you don’t want to leave me behind, because you love me.”

                “But sometimes loving someone isn’t enough,” she heard herself say, as if in a dream. Her throat felt thick, but her eyes were clear. “Sometimes it just isn’t.”

                “I don’t understand that,” Jacob said, shaking his head. They were stopped now, not too far from the mouth of the trail—she could see the waning light from where they stood. “Love is everything.”

                Hattie sniffled. His eyes danced as he watched her swallow, but he didn’t move to touch her. “All my life, there were things I knew I wanted. Things that seemed impossible. Not just for me, but for my entire culture. The things I am going to do when I get to England are going to open doors for people that have been locked for decades.”

                Despite herself, she felt her eyes well up in tears. She became angry—inexplicably so. It was a culmination of things, honestly: anger at Jacob, because he couldn’t understand; anger at herself and the secrets she still had to keep; anger at Severus for being the one thing she could never be okay with leaving behind; anger at the Regime for oppressing her people; anger at the world. Hot tears of anger, more than sadness, dripped down her face. He was watching her with unreadable eyes, and she could feel that her face was red with emotion.

                “Who is to say what is more important in life? If I can save a hundred people heartache, or save one person heartache, would it not be wise to choose the hundred over the one?” she demanded.

                “But it’s not your job to save everyone,” Jacob told her, kindly.

                “People do things that are not their job every single day,” Hattie said. “If I can save a bird, I will save a bird—if I can clean an ocean, I will clean an ocean. That is the kind of person I am, Jacob. And if I lose people along the way it is the risk that I take—and if I lose myself, at least it will have been in the service of others.”

                “But you don’t have to—” Jacob began.

“Yes, I do!” she interrupted.

                She could guess what he was going to say: _you don’t have to lose people,_ or _you don’t have to lose yourself,_ or _you don’t have to give everything._ She gave a half-wild, angry laugh that scared her a little bit, letting her head hang backward to stare at the treetops and the stars beyond.

                This was the price she paid for the secrets she was forced to keep. This and more.

                 “I have responsibilities,” she said after a moment, her voice too quiet in the twilight. “I have oaths to keep. I have people depending on me.” _People who are weaker than me. People who cannot fight. Prisoners and children and elderly. Broken birds whose wings no longer carried them._ “I have a duty to my people.”

                A duty that had once felt like pride and love and responsibility, that now felt like a ball and chain.

                “So where does that leave me?” Jacob asked. She was somewhat surprised to hear the budding of a passionate sorrow in his normally stable voice. “Because if you can save a hundred people heartache, or you can save one person heartache—that one person is you, isn’t it? You choose others over yourself. But what happens when choosing others over yourself has the repercussion of hurting _me?_ ”

                Hattie met his eyes and gave a shallow breath. This was not a discussion she wanted to have. Not here—not yet—not when she might have several more months of happiness with Jacob. She didn’t want to ruin it yet. But perhaps it would be easiest to get it over with now, instead of drawing it out, letting the poison and addiction seep deeper into her veins.

                 But after everything, how could she lie to him? She begged herself to be cold, to channel her inner Severus. To say, “You are not a factor.” But that wasn’t true. The truth was, he was one of the biggest factors. Part of the anchor that Forks had moored in her soul.

                “In my duty to my people,” she said, her voice so quiet it might have been just an exhale, “You are my greatest sin.”

                “Speak English, Hattie,” he begged. “Don’t tell me riddles—tell me what I mean to you. Tell me why you love me. Tell me that leaving is worth leaving me.”

                “If I told you that,” Hattie said shakily, “I would be lying.”

                And then he did the thing she expected least in that moment: he grabbed her up and kissed her, hard, not a nice kiss. Not the kiss of young love, or passion, or even sorrow. It was too rough, almost bruising, a clash of teeth and his arms so tight around her she almost couldn’t breathe.

                And she hated it and she loved it, and for some reason, they were both crying, holding each other as if they would never let go.

                But of course they did.

                He pulled away and set her back on her feet. He was so tall her head only made it to his shoulders, and so both of them craned their necks to look at each other. His tears were still on his face, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

                “Stay,” he said.

                She hesitated for perhaps a moment too long, the sound of his plea pulling on her heartstrings. If he asked anything else, she would make it happen; if he wanted for anything in the world, he would have it. But she couldn’t give him this.

                “But you know I cannot,” she whispered.

                And he nodded. Once, slowly.

                “I’m going to go first,” he said, motioning to the trail. “I need…to breathe.”

                And he left. She watched him go, watched the sad slump of his shoulders as he made his way to the mouth of the trail and disappeared out onto the Swans’ front lawn. She wondered if this was how it ended—if this was the only outcome. If it was for better or worse.

                But the what-ifs didn’t matter. Sometimes, all you can be is sad.

                And later that night, when Severus finally contacted her—when he summoned her to the Modoc National Forest, where all of her friends were waiting to celebrate under the starlight—she was once again caught up in her sadness. Because she wanted this. She wanted the freedom of the magic in her veins, the rush of happiness that Legacy brought to her. But she wanted Jacob, too.

                And for some reason, she couldn’t have both.

**AUGUST 2005**

                But of course it didn’t last. Jacob didn’t stay away long, though when he came back it was different. It was as if finally he had resigned himself to the truth, and was guarding himself now. Still she felt they both had too many emotions involved, and still she could not stop the happiness each time they came back together.

                After all—she had let him go. And he came back. Didn’t that mean something?

                So they spent that summer together. Almost never alone; mostly with Bella and Beau, but often they’d go out with one couple or the other. Edythe and Beau still insisted they weren’t dating, but they spent an awful lot of time together; Hattie figured it was only a matter of time before that changed.

                One day late into August, all six of them went out together. It was a heavily overcast day, much more so than most of the summer had been, but there was no forecast of rain. So Bella and Edward acquired passes for the fair that had come to Port Angeles.

                It was actually fun, even though the fair itself was nothing spectacular. It was overpriced and there were too many people; Edythe and Edward both looked stiff and uncomfortable, and to be honest, Hattie didn’t blame them. But the food was delicious, and the rides were fun: Jacob rode the pirate ship with her six times before finally looking queasy.

                The first time Jacob pulled her away, it had been to feed her candy floss. He’d seen someone selling it, hot off the machine, and wanted to get her some. She’d laughed and laughed when he tried to be cute and pull off a piece to feed her, only to have it melt in his hands—but when he’d licked it off his fingers, she felt he was taking revenge on her. When they kissed, it tasted like sugar.

                And then he made any excuse he could to pull her away from the group: in a house of mirrors they’d kissed until another couple ran across them, and in a nook behind the food trucks, and even in the Ferris wheel. There was even a moment, once, when his hand gripped her thigh—the closest he’d come to initiating anything further—and she’d been lost for a minute in how strongly she _wanted,_ and how embarrassingly _fine_ she was with their public location. In that moment he was the one with sense: he’d pulled away, cheeks a little flushed with their proximity, and they finished their Ferris wheel ride with their hands to themselves.

                It was after that particular time sneaking away that Beau and Bella began poking fun at them, nitpicking the state of Hattie’s hair—the way Jacob was looking at her. It became harder to sneak away without drawing suspicion and, honestly, it was for the best. So they stuck with the group the rest of the night.

                Edward was Edward of course. He was always a little peculiar, but he was a gentleman. He seemed to like Hattie more than he liked either Jacob or Beau, and even at one point told Jacob off for ‘threatening Hattie’s virtue’, but he still looked at Hattie like she was an alien sometimes. Edythe shared this trait with her brother, but she was also intensely likeable.

                It was in the genuine way she laughed, like she didn’t care who was watching her: her eyes crinkled and she put her whole body into it, almost curling into herself. It was in the way she carefully guided Beau away from obstacles, the gentle way she would reach out to touch Bella or Hattie’s shoulders but come just short of contact. And she always looked you in the eye, her face sincere, when she spoke to you. But then there were times when she was witty or sarcastic, often to her brother, that just made her seem…approachable.

                Less like the scary, imposing presence Hattie had always tagged her as.

                That wasn’t to say Edward and Edythe still didn’t have that type of aura about them. It was just easier to handle now that she’d been exposed to it; sort of like ice, and ancient hunger, cunning and prowess and strength.

                Once, Edythe actually touched Hattie’s bare shoulder. It sent a shock like electricity through her, and not in a good way; her fingers were like ice cubes. Hattie’s head had jerked around and she could almost feel her pupils dilate when they met Edythe’s own shocked gaze. But they just looked at each other for a moment, and then continued on, saying nothing.

                It reminded Hattie of the time Jacob told her about the ‘cold ones’, but she had idly brushed it away. The Cullens were good people, and there was no use in speculating. But if Hattie ever got the idea that either Cullen was hurting her siblings, whether they were cold ones or not, she would be forced to step in.

                There would be no excuses for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on Noah's Korean:   
> \- He calls his Animagus form 스라소니 (seu-ra-so-ni) at first  
> \- he texts Hattie, "생일ㅊㅋ!" which is shorthand for "생일축하해" (saeng-il-choo-ka-hay) meaning "Happy birthday" 
> 
> Archer calls Hattie "Queenie" as in "Queen Hattie" 
> 
> This chapter seems like a ton of filler probably but there's some definite foreshadowing (very obvious foreshadowing because I am not a subtle person haha) in like... all of the scenes. xD


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Follows the beginning of New Moon: 1! (FINALLY!)

_“And because we might have had no time at all in the world, it seemed as if we had all the time in the world. We had all the time there ever was and ever will be.” ―Virginia Bergin_

══════

**SEPTEMBER 11, 2005**

                “And hold,” instructed the werewolf, who all of them called Mellow Merrick. Hattie let her muscles hold her in the position he’d forced them into, a yoga pose meant to increase core strength. It had been difficult at first, but the more they practiced, the more they trained, the easier _everything_ became.

                No exercise was an island: each physical activity in the end helped other physical activities. Though they didn’t do yoga often, and it was taxing, it was a nice break from the constant movement they were used to. In fact, it was almost peaceful. They would probably be outside today even in the pouring rain, but there was a tornado risk that even Severus—who was insistent upon “whether rain or shine”—didn’t want to impose upon them.

                After all, at the end of this road, they would be platooned _whether rain or shine_ in a place they couldn’t easily ask for help.

                Hattie’s achy muscles trembled and she practiced breathing deeply, trying not to let her weaknesses through. Even after over half of a year, her elbow was still not up to par with the rest of her body, and putting this much weight on it for this long was painful. But it would only help her in the long run, to rebuild the muscles lost, like physical therapy.

                Finally, Mellow Merrick’s deep voice instructed them, “And now transition into corpse pose.”

                There was the quiet rustling as each of them brought themselves down and into the resting position, laid flat upon their mats. Sweat trickled down Hattie’s hairline and her heart was racing, but it felt good; she resisted the urge to look around her to see how her friends were doing.

                “Deep breaths as your heartrate falls,” intoned Mellow Merrick. At times she felt his voice could put her to sleep. “Let yourself fall into rest—but do not fall _asleep,_ Mister Whitborn.”

                A smile curled at her lips. Mellow Merrick was, as with most of the wolves they had the opportunity to meet, a part of the Modoc Pack that Archer belonged to. Since Archer was the Alpha’s sole heir, he _technically_ outranked just about everybody. But to the pack, and to Archer’s uncle, Lance, he was still just a pup who needed guidance. Even though everyone knew he would one day become Alpha of the Modoc Pack, right now he was but a puppy.

                And that’s how they treated him.

                Hattie let her eyes slip closed momentarily as she focused on bringing her heart to a resting rate. She would need it for what she knew was coming—if her heart was in a frenzy, she wouldn’t be able to manage the incantations. It was something they’d figured out fairly quickly.

                Sure enough, after just enough time to have calmed down, Mellow Merrick’s voice began again. It could have been a recording, smooth and deep and warm. The words were predictable, practiced.

                “Bring to mind the animal of your heart. How you look, how you feel; picture in detail the texture of your fur and the pattern of your feathers. Imagine the sensation of the ground beneath your feet. Picture the air whistling through your wings, and the way the world smells through your nose. Now you are one. Human and animal. As you become one, begin the incantation.”

                Hattie rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up into the final position of Marjiasana, the cat pose. It was almost like a deep bow, or praying with your head pressed to the ground, akin to child’s pose—it helped her focus. This was the hard part of all of their training sessions recently.

                For some reason, being an animagus did not come as easily to her as it did to the others. The entire process had been a struggle, from the potion until now; perhaps there was something in her biological makeup that wasn’t naturally inclined to transformation. Whatever it was, each week she came out of their lessons even more sore than the week before.

                At least now she felt she was making progress. At first it was like she was a muggle chanting meaningless words. As time progressed she could feel the magic in the incantation, and now it was like she was trying to force herself into a space that didn’t fit.

                So as she bowed she imagined herself as the lion.

                No, she _was_ the lion. She had always been the lion. It was there within her all along, as she grew, as she faced the Dursleys, when she came to Forks. It was there when she met Bella, and there during the car accident. It roared inside of her when she touched Jacob, and when she ran, and when she climbed. She was the lion when she fought, she was the lion when she learned, she was the lion when she protected her friends.

                Maybe that was the problem: how could you become what you already were?

                It wasn’t hard to draw to mind the image of herself. There was no forgetting something like that: the tawny mane, the golden fur. The supple muscle beneath her skin. The calculating, wise swish of her tail, the set of unnaturally green eyes that looked as if they had seen a thousand years before and would yet see a thousand more. It was her. There was no explaining it. She felt it when she had first seen him that day, and every day she felt it more; he was her. Even if that made no sense.

                No, imagining herself as the lion was not a problem because each morning she looked in the mirror and saw the shadow of him overlapped with her own magic, the ghostly aura of a lion. Sometimes he was faint, and other times she couldn’t see past him to her own features: already they were so intertwined it was impossible to believe she had never known of him before.

                With a slow breath, hearing her friends around her begin chanting, she joined. It was a chorus that sounded like a war chant, that brought a shiver of excitement and expectation into her bones. After the first incantation, their voices blended together into one seamless chant.

                “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”_

Another breath. The magic tingled along her spine and she could feel him roaring within her, as desperate to be free as she was to free him.

                “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”_

                She could see the Kalahari, its scraggly grass: he stood upon the trunk of a bedraggled tree, staring out into the distance. It smelled like sand and summer heat and something like sage. Whatever he saw out there, invisible to her, caused him to prowl down off of his perch.

                “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”_

There was a watering hole here, and they approached it with all the regality of a king. They were alone—they were always alone. The Kalahari was barren in this reality, Hattie and the Lion its only occupants. They bent to drink from the glassy surface, the water surprisingly cool despite the relentless sun.

                “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”_

                When they pulled back, they stared at their reflection. It was the Lion, of course; his handsome mane smooth and flowing. His eyes were jewels of solid emerald, mesmerizing. Between one ripple and the next, the face around the eyes had changed: no longer was the Lion staring back at them, but the handsome, weary face of Harry.

                “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”_

But that wasn’t right. Harry was not part of this. Harry was a dream a little girl had, a whisper of a thought. Harry was not Lion, nor was he Hattie. He didn’t belong in the Kalahari with them, no matter how fond both Hattie and Lion were of him. It would be like seeing Beau or Hermione wandering the barren desert.

                “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”_

They pulled back. The first twinges of pain were starting. It went from zero to one hundred immediately, fire burning through their veins. It was as if their magic was molten lava, their blood boiling mercury. It was unbearable, but she held onto him as tightly as she could. And then it was worse, like a giant was stepping on them: their bones creaked, their ribs screamed, their joints popped. Lion roared, and midway through, it turned to a scream. Hattie clung to the Lion, but it wasn’t to be; the scream had shaken her from his skin, and she was Hattie alone.

                She opened her eyes and did not bother saying the incantation again. She’d lost the feeling of him, and though she tried to hold onto it, it was like catching mist. As she drifted back into reality, she rolled onto her side, the memory of pain lingering. And yet that was not what caused a few slow tears to drip down her cheeks: it was the loss. Each time she was forced to shed his skin it was as if she had experienced a great death, the death of a piece of herself. Maybe because some part of her wanted it so badly. The physical pain was a reminder of him when she felt like she was losing him.

                After a moment, she sat up to watch, not meeting Mellow Merrick’s eyes, or turning to meet Severus’ burning gaze. He was always disappointed when she did not come back from her mindscape as an animal. Not necessarily disappointed in _her,_ but she was causing the disappointment nonetheless. It was too difficult to seek his gaze, no matter how much comfort she ached for now.

                The others were still in their varying resting poses. Archer had rolled onto his stomach, one leg outstretched and the other bent, his arms piled under his head. Apart from his moving lips, he could have been sleeping. A few were still in corpse pose, on their backs: Hermione, Neville, and Lydia. Wulfric and Elsie sat cross-legged. Ron, Yisri, and Noah had taken the same Marjiasana pose Hattie began in, bowing to the mat.

                Everyone had high bets that Archer, slacker though he seemed to be, would be the first to transform. He was already in tune with his spirit animal, the wolf; he knew the process of transformation from the full moon. Some said it couldn’t be done, of course: much of the Modoc Pack had bets that he would be physically incapable of it. All of the books said it was impossible for a werewolf.

                But that was because nobody had ever tried, right? Since the majority of the first half of the process was done on sequential full moons, it was risky for anybody to help a werewolf attempt the transformation. Pushing a werewolf’s transformation until the last second on one full moon was one thing—but on two, or three? It was nuts.

                Hattie knew in her heart that Archer would make the transformation. Why else would he be able to ingest the potion and be given the same spiritual journeys as the rest of them? And besides, the Blessed Legacy was planning on making history—what was one more thing to add to the books?

                The first werewolf animagus.

                Slowly, one by one, her friends came out of their meditation. None were as plagued as she by pain or loss or regret. In fact, most seemed happy when they woke, and wistful. It made her envious of them, but it also pleased her. There was nothing better than your loved ones’ happiness.

                They all gathered around each other quietly, first just Hattie and Noah, and then Hermione. Soon all but Ron and Archer had joined them. Hattie observed the small twitches that came with the prolonged use of the Animagus incantation: twitches that turned into muscle spasms, first gentle and then hard. Elsie was braiding everyone’s hair, one by one, when Ron woke.

                “Agh,” he grumbled, not sounding as if he had just been deep within his mind. He sounded completely aware. “I was so close,” he muttered.

                Mellow Merrick gave a soft shushing, motioning Archer’s still-prone form. Ron nodded distractedly, not moving to join the rest of them. He looked entirely too frustrated with himself.

                “It’s gone on longer than before,” Wulfric noted in a breath of a whisper.

                “Maybe he’s just sleeping,” joked Lydia, still near silence.

                But they knew he wasn’t: his sole voice continued their chant, _Amato Animo Animato Animagus._ And even as they spoke the spasms became his body arching, the incantation becoming groans of half-pleasure, half-pain.

                And then it was over.

                There was the rustling of them all jumping to their feet, the shocked gasps as they took in the vision before them. It was like watching him transform into a werewolf in slow motion: fur sprouted, snout elongated, arms became legs. It looked _painful,_ but the last human noises Archer gave were gasps of relief.

                And then he was a wolf.

                He looked the same as those times Legacy watched from the window as he transformed after meetings, but perhaps more puppylike and less feral. His fur made his cheeks look chubby, and the tufts of brown hair that looked like dog’s ears became actual ears. They were overly furry though, the fluff making them look huge upon his head. He was more brown than silver, almost the tawny color of the Lion, but his dark green eyes were the same.

                “He—,” Mellow Merrick choked.

                “He did it!” Hattie yelped, jumping once in place. Some icy grip of worry eased inside of her, worry she hadn’t known she carried within her; it was replaced by pride and happiness. As the wolf’s nails clicked across the training room floor, Legacy began shouting and jumping around each other.

                If it was possible for a wolf to look amused, Archer made it happen. They fell all over him, rubbing his ears, and he just snorted and let it happen.

                “We should call you Fluffy,” said Ron. Archer calmly turned and grabbed him by the pants, tossing him to the ground. “Or not.”

                As they all cuddled Archer proudly, the click of a camera captured the moment: all of them showering their friend with the pride they felt for him, the first of Legacy to transform. And somehow, seeing him do it firsthand, the rest of the group became even more determined than before.

                That was the beginning.

—x—

**SEPTEMBER 13**

                “Three—two—one—”

                “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

                Bella screamed as her body briefly left the safety of her mattress, the sudden weight of two extra bodies catapulting her into the air. It was only for a second, and it was only a few inches, but when she landed her heart was racing.

                The bed wasn’t big enough for the three of them: on the left side there was a large _thump_ , and Hattie’s familiar arms grasped Bella from the right side in a bid to stay on the bed. Even half-asleep, Bella was constantly surprised at the imperceptible strength in her sister’s grip. Her bird-like limbs were steely, the muscles firm under her soft skin.

                In the second it took Beau to pop his head up over the left side of the bed, Bella had calmed her racing heart. She floundered around for words.

                “What are you—what is— _Beau!”_ Bella shouted, wiggling into a sitting position. The force of it dragged Hattie up too.

                “Why ‘ _Beau’_?!” her brother protested, flailing his arms around. “Is Hattie not also in your bed?”

                “I could’ve been naked!” Bella yelled.

                “You don’t sleep naked,” both of her siblings refuted, seeming more like twins in that second than Bella and Beau ever had. An angry flush worked its way over her cheeks.

                “Still!” she groaned, flopping back onto her pillows. Hattie went down with her, still attached like a leech.

                “Still, why are you only yelling at me?” Beau groused, propping his elbows up on the bed. “It’s my birthday!”

                “It’s _my_ birthday,” Bella grumbled—not that she wanted to admit it. She’d been dreading the day for months. All throughout summer; and what a perfect summer it had been—lazy days spent with Edward and her siblings in turn. Their adventures together were chronicled in Hattie’s photo albums, but the adventures of Bella and Edward alone were only permanent in the stack of loose photos in Bella’s desk.

                And now—finally, regrettably—she was eighteen. It was true that each day she got older, but this was worse—a quantifiable turn. She was eighteen, and Edward never would be.

                The bleakness of it made her settle even further into her bed, pulling her sister close. For a brief few months they had been the same age, both of them seventeen. Seventeen suited Hattie, in the same way it suited Edward: both held that angelic adolescent innocence within their looks, soft and yet indiscernibly strong. Not quite teenagers, but not quite adults; stuck somewhere in the middle, a void that was brief for some and eternity for others.

                A void that Bella was swiftly passing through.

                “She likes me better,” was what Hattie said. It took Bella a moment to remember the conversation they were having.

                “She’s _my_ twin,” protested Beau. “And it’s my birthday.”

                “Yeah but it is her birthday as well,” Hattie pointed out, “she can yell at who she wants. And she does not like to yell at me.”

                Beau grumbled something under his breath and stood, looking unnaturally tall from where Bella lay on the bed. Then he sat on the edge and threw himself across both girls’ laps, arms behind his head.

                “Let’s skip school today,” her brother proposed. “I know you don’t like the attention anyways, Bells.”

                Bella debated this briefly, then sighed. Besides the fact that she had a quiz today, Edward would be worried if she didn’t show up. Added to the fact that they had all missed enough school last year due to her, she didn’t think it was a good idea. “I have a quiz today,” she told him, with a frown.

                “Fine—spoil sport!” Beau stuck his tongue out. “Then we’d better get ready for school.”

                He rolled off of them, headed out of the room. After a moment she heard him clunking down the stairs, and she and Hattie shared an amused smile. Hattie detangled herself from Bella’s grip and moved toward the door as well, pausing briefly in the entryway.

                “You know it is inevitable, right?” her sister asked, her wide eyes and messy hair making her look like a baby owl.

                “What is?” Bella responded absent-mindedly, already at her closet picking out the day’s clothes.

                “Aging,” Hattie said, perceptively. “The passage of time.”

                Bella looked up at her with calculating eyes.

                There were times she was sure Hattie knew more than she let on. It seemed like she was hypersensitive to Edward’s presence, almost always able to guess when he was in her room. Sometimes she said things that could be coincidence or could be a hint of her knowledge. And sometimes it was like she could read Bella’s mind exactly.

                And Bella never knew how to play it. Did she brush it off, risk seeming like she was denying the truth? Or did she go along with it, and risk Hattie figuring everything out? It was a fine line to walk sometimes. And how she _ached_ for a confidant. Everything would be easier if Hattie knew, but it would put her beloved sister in danger, and she couldn’t live with that.

                Besides, Hattie was keeping secrets too: often the weight of their respective secrets swung between them, almost like a physical barrier. Both of them knew the other was hiding things. But neither of them would broach the subject—perhaps because they were too stubborn, or too proud. Or perhaps because the secrets they carried with them were not theirs to give away.

                So Bella just sighed at her sister, a little fondly. “Just because it’s inevitable, doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

                “It would be easier if you did not _dislike_ it,” Hattie pointed out.

                “Why shouldn’t I dislike it?” Bella asked. “The passage of time—time changes everything.”

                “Change is not the worst thing in the world,” Hattie refuted.

                “It can be,” Bella shook her head.

                “It can be a lot of things,” Hattie said. She looked a little sorrowful herself. “It can be the best thing in the world. It can be sad, or difficult, or happy. It does not have to be bad.”

                “Are you talking about leaving?” Bella asked, trying to change the subject. “You don’t have to prepare me, you know.”

                Hattie leaned tiredly against the doorjamb. Suddenly she seemed exhausted—Bella noted that there were dark circles under her sister’s eyes. It made her wonder where Hattie was always disappearing to, what she was doing in those hours that she was gone.

                “Maybe I have to prepare myself,” Hattie suggested, softly.

                “Nobody is making you leave.”

                It was perhaps a bit sharp. The wince Hattie gave lent to that thought—as if the words physically hurt her. But Bella couldn’t help it. The idea that, sooner or later, Hattie would leave them, was difficult to swallow. She had grown accustomed to her sister’s presence, grown to need the comfort of Hattie’s arms, the unique logic she possessed. Hattie was the closest thing to a confidant Bella allowed herself to have. But they all had grown to love Hattie, and when she left it would leave an unfillable hole in the Swan family.

                They would hurt.

                “Nobody is making me leave,” Hattie agreed. “But still I have to go.”

                “Sometimes I hate your riddles,” Bella grumbled, turning back to her closet. She felt rather than heard her sister leave—the sudden stillness of the air. She didn’t want to hurt Hattie’s feelings, but it was hard to pretend to be happy for someone when you were hurting inside.

                Even though breakfast was a quick affair, it was nice. Recently it seemed like someone was always missing from the table. Charlie was working early mornings or late nights, Hattie was disappearing for hours on end, Beau was doing whatever Beau did (probably painting), and too often it was Bella spending time with Edward.  To have them all sat together, even briefly, was like when Bella and Beau had first arrived in Forks.

                It was like Before. Before Edward, and James, and the secrets that swirled around the Swan family in torrents.

                Gifts were exchanged that morning with little fanfare, which was exactly how Bella preferred it. She had begged her family not to get her anything, but she was pleased with what she received. Charlie and Renee gave both Bella and Beau a camera and a scrapbook. The idea was that for their senior year they should be creating memories. Hattie had given Bella a book she’d talked about, wrapped neatly in a soft scarf printed with quotes from Wuthering Heights. Beau also received a book, and a set of new watercolor paints in pristine tubes.

                Beau and Bella always gave each other two gifts. It was a tradition that stemmed from years before they had their own money to buy gifts with: young children swapping things they already owned. The first gift was a book. Specifically it was a book that they had read during the previous year, and wanted to share with their sibling. The second gift was a CD they’d listened to and enjoyed.

                So of course Beau received from Bella classic literature and classical music. And Bella received from Beau a lot of fantasy books and foreign music. But that was the fun of the exchange: knowing you were reading or listening to something that the other loved enough to share with you. There was something about losing yourself in the entertainment another enjoyed, as if you were losing yourself in their very thoughts and emotions.

                Hattie drove them to school, like most other days. With the presence of her siblings, it was easy for Bella to forget her woes about turning eighteen until, inevitably, they pulled into the familiar parking lot. She spied Edward almost immediately, leaning motionlessly against his Volvo—a marble tribute to some forgotten pagan god of beauty. He was waiting there for her, just the same as every other day.

                His sister Alice was standing by his side, waiting for Bella too.

                Alice and Edward weren’t actually related, something that was hard to believe sometimes. They had the same pale skin, the same honey eyes with the same bruise-like shadows beneath them. And, of course, they were both startlingly beautiful. These were traits all of the Cullens shared, something that marked them all as what they were—at least to people like Bella.

                Edythe sometimes joined them—depending on whether she was in a _Yes we’re dating_ or _No we’re not a couple_ mood on each particular day. Bella suspected Beau was happy to just go along with it, knowing she wasn’t dating anybody else either. Today Bella could see that Edward’s twin was waiting a long way up the parking lot. When the car shut off, Beau immediately disembarked to meet up with her.

                Hattie and Bella climbed out a second later. Alice was already skipping toward Hattie’s car, beaming. Hattie, texting on her phone, gave a distracted wave as she began the trek toward school. Bella watched her sister with fond eyes, then Alice.

                “Happy birthday, Bella!” Alice crowed. She held up a small silver-wrapped package excitedly.

                “Shhh,” Bella hissed, glancing around to make sure nobody had heard her. It was difficult enough for her birthday to remain unnoticed when she shared it with Beau.

                But Alice was ignoring her, anyways. “Do you want to open your present now, or later?”

                 “No presents,” Bella protested.

                Alice frowned as she processed Bella’s mood, then nodded. “Okay—later, then. Did you like the presents your family got you? Hattie knows you very well.”

                At the mention of Hattie’s name, Alice looked up to stare after her with interest. It always struck Bella that Alice wanted to be friends with Hattie, but wasn’t sure how to go about it—the hesitation was endearing. Hattie was a friendly person, she just didn’t go out of her way to socialize, and Alice said it was “difficult” to get a read on her future.

                “It’s blurry,” the pixie had stated, frowning. “No matter what choice she makes. It’s odd.”

                ‘Odd’ was how most of the Cullens felt about Hattie, of course. Edward was under the impression she wasn’t entirely sane, and Edythe thought her mind was a puzzle to be figured out. Added to the fact that Alice could hardly see her future, Bella sometimes thought that whatever was broken inside of Hattie was affecting her more than she let on.

                “Yeah,” Bella finally said. “The gifts were great.”

                “I think it’s a nice idea—you’re only a senior once. Might as well document the experience!”

                “And how many times have you been a senior?” Bella asked, her eyebrow raising.

                “That’s different.”

                Edward finally reached them, holding his hand out for Bella’s. He was devastatingly handsome. Her heart constricted in her chest as she looked up into his topaz eyes, forgetting, for a moment, that she was supposed to be glum.

                He raised his free hand and ran one cool finger around the outside of her lips as he spoke. “So, as discussed, I am not allowed to wish you a happy birthday, is that correct?”

                “Yes. That is correct,” Bella affirmed. She could never quite mimic the flow of his perfect, formal articulation. She thought privately it was something that could only be picked up in an earlier generation. Even Hattie’s accent, combined with her rare usage of contractions, wasn’t quite the same.

                “Just checking.” He ran his hand through his tousled bronze hair. “You might have changed your mind. Most people seem to enjoy things like birthdays and gifts.”

                Alice laughed, and the sound was all silver, a wind chime. “Of course you'll enjoy it. Everyone is supposed to be nice to you today and give you your way, Bella. What's the worst that could happen?” Obviously she meant it rhetorically, but clearly she didn’t know Bella.

                “Getting older,” she answered anyway, and her voice was not as steady as she wanted it to be.

                Beside her, Edward's smile tightened into a hard line.

                “Eighteen isn't very old,” Alice said. “Don't women usually wait till they're twenty-nine to get upset over birthdays?”

                “It's older than Edward,” Bella mumbled.

                He sighed.

                “Technically,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Just by one little year, though.”

                And Bella supposed—if she could be sure of the future she wanted, sure that she would get to spend forever with Edward, and Alice and the rest of the Cullens (preferably not as a wrinkled little old lady)—then a year or two one direction or the other wouldn't matter to her so much. But Edward was dead set against any future that changed her. Any future that made her like _him_ —that made her immortal, too. He said that she would come to regret it—leaving behind Hattie and Beau.

                An impasse, he called it.

                She would privately concede to Edward’s point. Now, nearly a year after Hattie came into her life, she couldn’t imagine a future without _both_ of her siblings. But everyone loses sometimes, right? How do you choose between the love of your life and your family?

                “What time will you be at the house?” Alice continued, changing the subject. From her expression, she was up to exactly the kind of thing Bella had been hoping to avoid.

                “I didn't know I had plans to be there.”

                “Oh, be fair, Bella!” she complained. “You aren't going to ruin all our fun like that, are you?”

                “I thought my birthday was about what I want.”

                “I'll get her from Charlie's right after school,” Edward told her, ignoring Bella altogether.

                “I have to work,” Bella protested. She had taken a job at the Newtons’ family store, so this wasn’t exactly a lie.

                “You don't, actually,” Alice told her smugly. “I already spoke to Mrs. Newton about it. She's trading your shifts. She said to tell you ‘Happy Birthday.’“  
  
                “I—I still can't come over,” Bella stammered, scrambling for an excuse. “I, well, Beau and I always spend our birthday together.”

                Alice snorted. “I think Edythe has that taken care of.”

                “It’s a ‘yes’ day, then?” Bella wondered, almost side-tracked and hoping that Alice was too.

                “Sort of. Edythe doesn’t want to break the V news to him yet, so he can’t come to the house. But she knows you’re coming to the house. So she wants to do something with him.” Alice explained lightly.

                “But I haven’t said yes, yet—what if I had plans?” Bella groused.

                Finally, Alice lost the smug smile and glared at her. “This can be easy, or this can be hard, Bella, but one way or the other—”

                Edward interrupted her threat. “Relax, Alice. If Bella wants to spend time with her family, then she can. It's her birthday.”

                “So there,” Bella added.

                “I'll bring her over around seven,” he continued. “That will give you more time to set up.”

                Alice's laughter chimed again. “Sounds good. See you tonight, Bella! It'll be fun, you'll see.” She grinned—the wide smile exposed all her perfect, glistening teeth—then pecked Bella on the cheek and danced off toward her first class before she could respond.

                “Edward, please—” Bella started to beg, but he pressed one cool finger to her lips.

                “Let's discuss it later. We're going to be late for class.”

                And how could she argue with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Sorry for the wait! :D I'm a bad person!   
> Follow me on Twitter **@QueenBuzzle** for tiny previews and/or to bug me about updating and/or to ask me questions you don't/can't ask here!


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the end of NM: 1.   
> Follow me on Twitter **@QueenBuzzle**

_“People do complicated things because people are complicated." ―Cassandra Clare_

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**SEPTEMBER 13**

                “So I hear it’s not your birthday.”

                Beau didn’t stop walking as he came up next to Edythe, simply allowing her to turn and fall into stride with him. This was a game they both played—both pretending they didn’t harbor feelings for the other, until eventually one of them caved. Usually Beau. Then they would have a lovely day together, or two or three, and fall back into their usual routine.

                Cat and mouse. Hunter and hunted. Seeker and sought.

                Only for some reason, Beau had the horrible thought that he was the mouse in the end.

                “Well—it’s not Bella’s birthday,” Beau said carefully. For some reason his sister hated the attention birthdays brought, and because he loved her, he often played along. “But it might be mine.”

                Edythe’s perfect mouth quirked up at the corners. She was beautiful. Each time he looked at her he fell for her over again. With her flawless skin and smooth, precise angles, she could have been the world’s loveliest sculpture. Michelangelo himself would weep over her complexion.

                “I may have heard from Edward that it was her birthday as well,” Edythe pretended to think, raising a manicured fingertip to her lips. Edythe was unlike any of the girls he knew. Even Hattie’s practiced fluidity wasn’t exactly _grace,_ and her hands were firm and sure. But Edythe was all gentleness, each touch careful and precise. He couldn’t imagine her ever grabbing something hard enough to break her beautifully manicured fingernails.

                “Don’t spread it around,” Beau rolled his eyes. “My sister has a flair for the dramatics.”

                “It seems our siblings both have that in common,” agreed Edythe, flashing a grin. “I got you something.”

                “You didn’t have to get me anything!” Beau protested. They were coming upon the door of his first class.

                “I know,” Edythe shrugged. “However, I did. And my parents might have gifted you something as well. I think they’re planning on having Bella over later, and felt bad.”

                “But why would they feel bad?” Beau asked, honestly. He was under no illusions; he and Edythe were not a couple. Perhaps, even, he didn’t _want_ to be with her. She was perfect, but there comes a certain pressure with perfection. There was no reason for the Cullens to feel obligated to offer him gifts, even if they were offering his sister the same.

                “I tried to explain,” Edythe gave another half-hearted shrug. “But I don’t think they cared much.”

                She pulled out the aforementioned gifts, one wrapped neatly in brown paper, the other in silver. She offered him the silver one first. He sighed and took it from her, feeling a little bit guilty—he was never the best at receiving gifts. He didn’t know how to be gracious, and thankful, without seeming that he was faking his enthusiasm even when he wasn’t.

                He carefully unwrapped the silver gift and had to stare at it in awe for a moment. If he had asked for anything, it would have been this: a new sketchbook, very high quality, with a leather cover, and a set of pencils of varying hardness.

                “That’s from Carlisle and Esme,” Edythe explained. “Though I hope you will draw me something.”

                Beau glanced up at her and smiled. “I’ll get right on it.”

                She handed over the gift wrapped in brown next, and it was heavier. From the shape and weight of it, he already knew what it was—a grin stole over his face.

                “You got me books?” he asked. She half-nodded, half-shrugged, looking away.

                He pulled it open and was stunned. If he had liked Mr. and Mrs. Cullens’ gift, it was nothing compared to what Edythe had given him: his favorite trilogy by his favorite author, including the unreleased third book.

                “But how—?” he asked, motioning the third book. “It doesn’t come out until next year!”

                “I sold my soul,” Edythe joked. “No—I’m only joking. My family has some connections in the publishing world, so it wasn’t that difficult. It’s signed, by the way.”

                “What—?” Beau pulled the third book out and opened the cover. Sure enough, it was inscribed _For Beau,_ with a small note from the author. He was speechless for a moment, staring at Edythe. What power this small woman had in this huge world—it was almost frightening. “Thank you, Edythe.”

                “I’d hoped you would like it,” Edythe said bashfully, and then grinned at him. “I’ll see you after class.”

                And like that she was loping away, down the hall—he stared after her in astonishment, then down at his books as if he were dreaming. It took until the bell rang for him to enter the room, pushing through the door of his first class in a daze.

                Edythe had outdone herself.

—x—

                Edward led Bella to his car after school, both of them debating Romeo and Juliet fairly heatedly. Perhaps they looked angry, because most people gave them a wide berth—but they were both just passionate about their own opinions.

                Bella believed Romeo was a solid character with a tragic story, while Edward disagreed.

                “He was in love with this Rosaline—don’t you think that makes him a little fickle? And then, minutes after their wedding, he kills Juliet’s cousin. That’s not very brilliant. Mistake after mistake. Could he have destroyed his own happiness any more thoroughly?”

                He was starting the car by now, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot. From the window Bella could see all of her friends’ blurry faces: Jessica and Mike, arguing over something or another; Angela and Ben Cheney, McKayla and Connor, Lauren and Tyler. Even Hattie and Beau, walking to Hattie’s SUV—and Edythe and Alice, a few cars down.

                It was a strange phenomenon, to be surrounded so thoroughly by people who cared about you. In Phoenix she was one face in thousands, and the only friend she had was Beau. Here, where the pool was nowhere near as large, she had a multitude of acquaintances and, yes, friends. Often these days Bella wondered what it would be like, the eventuality of her death; she was sure one day she would be a vampire and would leave all of these people behind. Who would mourn? For how long? What would it do to her parents?

                To Beau and Hattie—that was one thing she tried not to think about. If she pictured them mourning her it might have the power to change her mind.

                Besides Edward, or perhaps in edition to Edward, they were the people she loved most in the world.

                She must have been quiet for too long, because Edward continued his little speech. “Though, I do admit—I envy him a little.”

                “She _is_ very pretty,” Bella admitted.

                “I don’t envy him the girl,” Edward said, making a disgusted sound. “Just the ease of suicide. You humans have it so easy! All you have to do is throw down one tiny vial of plant extracts—”

                “What?” Bella gasped, whirling to face him. He was looking out the window. It was early autumn, so already the sun was making its descent—gone were the days of sun late into the evening. Behind the clouds it didn’t have the power to make his skin sparkle, but the muted rays did light his face in a heavenly way.

                “It’s something I had to think about once, and I knew from Carlisle’s experience it wouldn’t be simple. I’m not even sure how many ways Carlisle tried in the beginning—after he realized what he’d become—” his voice, which had grown serious, turned light again. “And he’s clearly still in excellent health.”

                Bella arched forward in her seat so she could better see his face. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “What do you mean, this is something you had to think about once?”

                “Last spring, when you were—nearly killed—” he paused to take a breath, struggling to return to his teasing tone. “Of course I was trying to focus on finding you alive, but part of my mind was making contingency plans. Like I said, it’s not as easy for me as it is for a human.”

                For one second the reminder of her last trip to Phoenix blindsided her. It was a rush of memories so clear they might have been just yesterday: the blinding sun, her feet against the pavement, the weight of her phone in her pocket, James—and the sound of shattering glass, glinting off waxed wooden floors. How very close it had been to the end, that day. Unthinkingly, she ran her fingers over the crescent scar on her wrist, just a few degrees cooler than the rest of her skin.

                She shook her head—as if she could shake the bad memories away—and tried to grasp what Edward meant. Her stomach plunged uncomfortably. “Contingency plans?” she repeated.

                “Well, I wasn’t going to live without you.” He rolled his eyes as if that fact were childishly obvious. “But I wasn’t sure how to do it—I knew Emmett and Jasper would never help—so I was thinking maybe I would go to Italy and do something to provoke the Volturi.”

                Bella didn’t want to believe he was serious. Outside the windows she could see they were nearly to her house, but she couldn’t escape the vivid image of Edward’s death. His eyes were brooding, staring out far away as if still contemplating ways to end his own life. Abruptly, she was furious.

                “What is a Volturi?” she demanded.

                “The Volturi are a family,” he explained. “A very old, very powerful family of our kind. They’re the closest thing our world has to a royal family, I suppose—anyway, you don’t irritate the Volturi unless you want to die—or whatever it is we do.”

                His voice was so calm, it made him seem almost bored by the concept—the concept of his own death. Her anger turned to nauseating horror. As he pulled into her driveway, she took his marble face in her hands and held it very tightly.

                “You must _never,_ never think of anything like that again!” she half-shouted, desperately. “No matter what might ever happen to me—you are not allowed to hurt yourself!”

                “I’ll never put you in danger again, so it’s a moot point,” Edward said, with a pleasant smile.

                “Put me in danger?! I thought we’d established that all the bad luck was my fault?” Bella was getting angrier. “How dare you even think like that?”

                The idea of Edward ceasing to exist because of her—even if she were dead—was impossibly painful. He had lived for so long it would be a loss to the world.

                “What would you do, if the situation were reversed?” he asked.

                “That’s not the same thing,” Bella said, immediately. And it wasn’t. Even if she wanted to be dramatic, she knew there was no way she could _kill_ herself. Still—he didn’t seem to understand, and chuckled. She scowled. “What if something _did_ happen to you? Would you want me to go off myself?”

                A trace of pain touched his angelic features. “I guess I see your point—a little.” He admitted. “But what would I do without you?”

                “Whatever you were doing before I came along and complicated your existence,” Bella insisted.

                He sighed. “You make it sound so easy.”

                She wanted to argue more—to make him promise her he would never harm himself—but there was Hattie’s SUV, pulling past the Volvo into its usual parking spot closer to the garage. Bella pulled her hands away from his face with a sigh.

                “Are you coming in?” she asked, gathering her things.

                He shook his head. “No, I can’t—but I’ll be back in a couple of hours to collect you.”

                “What if Charlie says I can’t go?” Bella refuted, even though she knew it was a lost cause.

                “He won’t,” Edward said surely. “Go enjoy yourself. I’ll see you later.”

                He kissed her gently, and much too quickly; she ached for him to deepen the kiss, but he wouldn’t. Then he was reaching across her to open the door, smiling so beautifully it could break hearts.

                Inside, Hattie and Beau were already bickering. Beau had a sketchbook spread before him, but he was waving his pencil around in the air at Hattie. Hattie, in the frilly pink apron that made her look like a housewife, was laying out the ingredients to make a birthday cake. Bella leaned against the doorway to listen.

                “Just tell her you want to be a couple!” Hattie was insisting. “Maybe she is waiting on you to make the first move.”

                “That,” Beau said, punctuating his point with a jab from his pencil, “is a stupid idea. What if I told her that, and she laughed at me?”

                “Edythe is not that kind of person,” Hattie protested.

                “But what if she doesn’t want to be a couple?”

                “But how will you ever know if you never ask her?”

                “It’s safer if I don’t,” Beau denied.

                “Then what? You just continue this little game forever?” her sister wondered, cracking eggs into a mixing bowl. “That is a miserable existence.”

                “And what you and Jake have isn’t?” he crowed. He made an angry slash across his paper, then, with a frustrated sigh, began to methodically erase it. Hattie was silent. “What you’re doing to him isn’t fair.”

                “You think I am unaware of that?” Hattie muttered. There was true sorrow in her voice, and Bella wondered if she should step in—but this was a side of her siblings she didn’t get to see often. She was always so caught up within herself and Edward that it seemed their relationship had deepened in the midst of it all. “You think I am unaffected by it?”

                “You have all of the power,” Beau said. “And he’s just floating along beside you.”

                “I _tried_ to end things—” Hattie’s voice was a carefully neutral tone. “I tried, Beau. On my birthday, I thought for sure…but he came back again.”

                Beau stared at Hattie with surprise as Bella finally entered the kitchen fully, sitting down beside him. The noise of the chair caught Hattie’s attention and she looked up, trying to compose her face into a happy smile. It made Bella’s heart clench—when had Hattie started hiding from her?

                When neither Beau nor Hattie seemed inclined to continue their argument now that she was here, Bella took it into her own hands. She was never able to leave things alone.

                “You tried to break up with Jake on your birthday?” she prompted.

                Hattie turned back to her cake and shrugged. Beau, beside Bella, was looking curious as well—obviously even he didn’t know this story. Of course Bella remembered the day well. Hattie and Jacob had disappeared into the forest, and Jake came back alone, and left swiftly. Hattie followed a few minutes later, and something about her expression then—resignation, and perhaps sadness—had been strange. It sort of made sense now.

                “Not on purpose,” Hattie said, carefully. “It just…happened. But I let him go. And I expected it to be the end. But then he came back again.”

                “Because he loves you,” Beau responded. There was something a little bitter in his voice. He—didn’t like the thought that Hattie was stringing Jacob along?

                “I love _him_ ,” Hattie insisted. “I am sorry if it doesn’t seem it, but Jacob and I—well. When I leave, he will not be the only one broken by it.”

                “Then don’t leave,” Bella offered. She knew it was a moot point—they had already had this conversation today. It still seemed a little like a fantasy, that Hattie was leaving; there had been no explanation and there still was no timeframe.

                “You and Jacob,” Hattie snorted. “You both make it sound so easy.”

                Then she wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to her backpack. Beau and Bella watched her curiously as she dug around within it and pulled out a small book—a photo album. The edges of it were battered like she carried it around with her. Hattie came to join them at the table, turning the album lovingly toward them. The front of it was purple and, in a kitschy font, read _DREAM._

                “What’s this?” Bella asked, already opening the cover. The first page had two breathtaking pictures. The top one was a magnificent castle and its sprawling grounds, surrounded by greenery. There was even a lake. The second one was a group of kids in school uniforms, with yellow and gold ties, sat before that lake—you could see the castle in the background. Bella recognized Lily and James Potter, probably Hattie’s age, in the picture; the others must’ve been their friends.

                “This is Hogwarts,” Hattie explained, pointing to the castle. “It might not look it, but it’s a school. It has been…out of use, since before I was born. My parents went there. It is _the_ most famous school for our people—it’s very prestigious in our community, but it’s not well known outside of the United Kingdom.”

                “But if it’s not being used anymore—” Bella began.

                “That is why I have to go back,” Hattie said, and then smiled a beatific smile. “I have the opportunity to help reopen it.”

                She flipped the page, and it was a spread of four pictures—two on the right, two on the left. Bella studied them. There was a picture of five boys on the top of one page; one dark-skinned with dreadlocks, one of Asian descent with dark hair and eyes, one redhead whose pale skin was covered in freckles, one brunette with brown eyes and light skin, and one brunette with green eyes and tan skin. They were all sat atop a blue gymnast’s mat in athletic clothing, huddled close together and looking up at the camera in surprise. Directly opposite the picture of the boys was a picture of five girls, standing on another gymnast’s mat in athletic clothing, their arms around each other’s shoulders. Hattie was among them, directly in the center. To her left was a girl with wild golden brown curls and warm brown eyes—to her right was a girl with nutbrown skin, her kinky hair tied back in two thick braids. At the left end was a thin, pale girl with light brown hair—at the right end was a curvy blond girl with dark eyes.

                The bottom pictures were more interesting. One was Hattie laying prone on the floor with her eyes closed, one arm stretched out perpendicular to her body, the other tucked behind her head. The girl with the kinky brown hair lay next to her, head pillowed on Hattie’s arm. Both looked sweaty and tired.

                The other picture was mid-action, from behind. All ten of the teens from the first two pictures were on separate yoga mats, striking a huge kick in unison.

                The entire album was filled with pictures of the ten of them, in various groupings. Hattie shooting a bow in the middle of the woods—all of them dressed in black and dripping in splotches of paint—staring out large bay windows into the night—huddled around tables stacked with books, heads down—climbing trees. The picture that gave Bella the chills was Hattie holding the edge of a curved sword to her face—so close to her nose it was almost touching. The blade reflected the serious expression she wore, the sweat beading on her forehead. Her intricate braids were coming lose from whatever activity she’d been performing, and the muscles of her arms were tense with the position she held the sword in.

                She looked like a warrior.

                Bella couldn’t connect the dots. When she thought of swordplay she thought of medieval times—ancient Asia—fantasy. To see Hattie so seriously wielding an honest-to-God _sword_ was as surprising as it was impressive.

                “What is this?” Bella repeated. She flipped through the pages again, eying pictures she’d overlooked: Hattie standing next to a tall, imposing man with a crooked nose—nine of them huddled lovingly around a huge, wild-looking dog—all of them in what looked like a café holding up fizzy gold drinks.

                “These are some of my people,” Hattie explained, looking at the pictures almost lovingly.

                “This is where you keep disappearing to?” Beau questioned, pointing at the room with the yoga mats. It was the most common theme of the pictures. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

                “I don’t know,” Hattie admitted. “I guess I thought if I kept it to myself it would be easier. I thought it would be impossible for you to understand.”

                “They’re your friends,” Bella said, stating the obvious truth: the Hattie within the pictures vibrated with pride and warmth, and the Hattie looking at the pictures looked with fondness. “Why wouldn’t we understand that?”

                “I find it hard to explain my thoughts,” she said, touching a picture of all ten of them looking out a huge window into the dark. “They are all…like me. They are all refugees.”

                Something in Hattie’s expression changed then. Determination and resolve hardened her eyes, and she looked at her siblings steadily. Bella and Beau didn’t interrupt—even though Hattie had been in Forks for almost a year, they still didn’t know that much about where she came from.

                “There was a kind of civil war in my community, which is how my parents died,” Hattie started, the determination causing her to rush through her words—as if she wasn’t sure how much she should be saying, and wanted to get out as much as possible before her resolve wore through. “Like me, they all lost someone in that war. It was a quiet affair, but it took its toll. For most of us we spent years hoping our community would come back together, wishing we could rebuild from the horrors—but it never happened. Until recently, the same people who caused the war were in control of the government—we call them the Regime. And now twenty years have passed and they are no longer in power, and finally _we_ have the power to do something. We are rebuilding the community brick by brick.”

                And suddenly things were falling into place. All of the tiny snippets of Hattie’s past, everything she had let slip over the months, suddenly had a reason.

_I met Cecelia one time nearly six years ago. I held her in my arms and I thought, if something so precious can be born into this hellish world, then clearly it can’t be so hellish after all._

_Of all the families she could’ve been born to, of all the people her light could’ve touched—some deity decided to give her to us._

_I received word in January that Cedric’s father,_ Cecelia’s _father, was killed._

_I have nightmares every night about whose death I’ll get news of next._

_With each passing day without word from my friends, my panic grows._

_I know that any world that could give me_ her _is worth holding on hope for._

_There are so many things you don’t know._

_You’re going to tell me everything, right? – Right._

_Do you think you’ll go back? – Yes, most likely._

                And it suddenly made sense. The way Hattie was—the things she didn’t say. _Refugees,_ Hattie said. Refugees of a war none of them had heard of. Children who grew up in a community ravaged and broken by an oppressive government, like how the media portrayed third world countries. How she always spoke about ‘her people’ like they were somehow other—because they were. They were connected in a way no other people were. The way that, sometimes, Hattie got this far-away look in her eyes, like she was seeing things that happened a long time ago.

                How Edward and Edythe thought her mind was broken.

                Because maybe it was.

                “Hattie,” Bella said, but she didn’t know how to follow it up. _I’m so sorry_ didn’t seem to encompass it. She hadn’t known. Hattie didn’t _want_ them to know—that much was obvious now. And still there were secrets she was hiding, still they hung permeably in the air.

                “That sounds dangerous,” Beau said, carefully, but he had put his pencil down and was staring with huge eyes at Hattie. Bella remembered when they discussed what Hattie was hiding, all those months ago—when they thought she was part of a cult. Neither of them had thought of her being a refugee.

                “It might be,” Hattie admitted. “But…all my life, there were things that seemed impossible. Things I wanted desperately. And now, finally, they are within my reach—how could I not go after them? Even if there is a risk involved? If I can open a door for my people, I _have_ to open it.”

                Bella hesitated. She could understand where Hattie was coming from. She felt something of that struggle within herself, too—if she could save someone she loved, even if it meant dying in their place, she would do it. She had tried to do it, just last spring. She couldn’t fault Hattie for that, even if the thought of her sister going into what might be a warzone was terrifying.

                But there was only one question she asked. It had burned itself into her mind over these months, ever since Hattie had shown her the picture of a young boy and his baby sister—ever since she’d said, _Oh, it’s um…Cecelia._

                “Are you going to see her?”

                Confusion crossed both of her siblings’ faces. Hattie studied Bella’s eyes for a moment before her expression turned to surprise.

                “Cecelia?” she asked, as if the idea had never crossed her mind. Bella nodded. Hattie looked back down at the photo album, her silhouette becoming somehow sad. “I don’t think so.”

                “But you love her!” Bella protested.

                “Love is not the answer to everything,” Hattie said hollowly. “I would only be a bitter memory for her family. A reminder of what they have lost. Besides—she was only a baby the last time I saw her. She would not even know me.”

                They all looked up at the sound of tires popping on gravel. Charlie was home—panic crossed Hattie’s expression. She closed the photo album and stuffed it back into her backpack.

                “Please—if you understand why I have to go, you cannot tell Uncle Charlie. Never,” Hattie begged.

                Bella nodded without hesitation. It took Beau a moment longer to agree.

                And then it was just another secret in the endless void of them—swirling around waiting to be told. Some would come out, sooner or later.

                Some never would.

—x—

                The Cullens had gone all out for her. It was at once both embarrassing and strangely heart-warming; the Japanese lanterns, the crystal bowls full of pink roses, the beautiful cake that only she would enjoy. And everyone there, staring at her.

                At least Edythe was missing. When Edward arrived to pick Bella up, Edythe came with him—to stay with Beau. Charlie loved Edythe and didn’t mind, and it was perhaps the driving factor in letting Bella go to the Cullens’…not that she had really wanted to.

                But still, there were the others: Edward and Alice, of course, she was fairly comfortable with. But Jasper, sprawled long and lean against the staircase bannister, still wouldn’t approach Bella. And Rosalie and Emmett, who had been in Africa these long months, were back; Rosalie, though she wasn’t making any snide faces, was still cold. Emmett, at least, seemed to have taken a liking to Bella. He thought she was funny.

                And lovely Esme, and Carlisle—who had spent so long patching both Bella and Hattie up.

                All of these beautiful, unapproachable people made her the center of their attention. It was enough to make anyone nervous.

                So was it really that surprising when she cut herself?

                “Open mine and Edward’s next,” Alice said, her voice so excited it was a high-pitched trill. Bella remembered what Edward had said on the way here; _None of us have had a true birthday since Emmett in 1935. They’re excited._

                Still, she turned accusing eyes on Edward, who jokingly held his hands up. “I didn’t spend a dime.”

                Bella inhaled deeply and turned back to Alice. “Alright—pass it to me.”

                She took the little package, rolling her eyes a little at Edward’s smug face. It was wrapped beautifully in silver. She admired it while she stuck her finger under the edge of the paper and jerked it under the tape.

                “Shoot,” she hissed when the paper sliced her finger; she pulled it out to examine the damage. A single drop of blood oozed from the tiny cut.

                It all happened very quickly then.

                “No!” Edward roared.

                He threw himself at Bella, flinging her back against the table—in the blur as she was airborne, she remembered the sensation from last spring, flying into the wall. She hit the table and it fell, as she did, scattering the cake and the presents, the flowers and the plates. Bella landed in the mess of shattered crystal.

                Jasper slammed into Edward, the sound like a crash of boulders in a rockslide. There was another noise, too, a grisly snarling that seemed to be coming from deep in Jasper’s chest. He tried to shove past Edward, snapping his teeth just inches away from Edward’s face.

                Emmett grabbed Jasper from behind in the next second, locking him into his massive steel grip, but Jasper struggled on, his wild, empty eyes focused only on her.

                Beyond the shock, there was also pain. She’d tumbled down to the floor by the piano, her arms thrown out instinctively to catch herself, right into the jagged shards of glass all around her. Only now did she feel the searing, stinging pain that ran from her wrist to the crease inside her elbow.

                Dazed and disoriented, she looked up from the bright red blood pulsing out of her arm—into the fevered eyes of the six suddenly ravenous vampires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm still alive! Yes, this story still has chapters! No, I have not really given up writing it (my inspiration for it just comes in spurts, y'know). 
> 
> I've gotten some really pushy reviewers the last several chapters about Edythe/Beau, which is kind of annoying, but here's some Edythe/Beau interaction in this chapter proving I haven't forgotten about them. 
> 
> The first part of this story followed VERY close to Twilight, which was both intentional and unintentional, but everything changes in New Moon. All the secrets are coming out. As for Edythe and Beau -- I have very few plans for them. They could end up together. They could not end up together. It's all up in the air--honestly, I just write what I feel like writing because this story was about my entertainment. So when it happens, it happens. But I will say that months ago I wrote a scene where they break up, because at the time I was feeling like a break-up scene--will this scene make it into the story? I don't know. Only time will tell. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, and follow me on Twitter **@QueenBuzzle** to poke me and get better responses. :)


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